Poetry Reading
by gp28
Summary: College AU with captain swan. Ruby convinces Emma to go to a poetry reading with her. And one of the participants is very, very good with words. :-D please read and review.
1. Pretty Words

_-well, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i don't think that's happening, so yeah. :) inspired by the photo that is now my avatar. i apologize for my attempt at slam poetry. i've never done it before, so i gave it a shot. enjoy!-gp28_

_disclaimer: I don't own Killian, Emma, Ruby, Victor, or anyone else from OUAT. Please don't sue. I don't have much. :)_

XXXXXX

"What do you think?"

Emma looked over the top of her glasses at her roommate/best friend Ruby. The brunette had her hands on her hips.

"What are you wearing?" Emma asked, glancing back at her psych textbook. Her friend had on a below the knee broomstick type skirt, peasant blouse and corduroy blazer on. But that wasn't the weird part. The weird part were Emma's beat up second pair of glasses that were perched on Ruby's nose.

"I found them in the top drawer in the bathroom."

"Those are so scratched, how can you see out of them? And you have 20/20 vision," Emma cocked her head to the side. "You look…"

"What?"

"I have no idea."

"Do I look like I like poetry?" Ruby asked eagerly.

"Um...sure?"

Ruby grinned. "Great. Now change into something that's...not that," she gestured to Emma's gray sweat pants and alma mater hoodie.

"Why?"

"Poetry night at Grounds." Grounds was the secondary coffeehouse for the university. The first, simply named College Caffeine, was the go to place for most students: wifi, quick service, and a plethora of flavor syrup choices. Grounds, Emma had never been to, but was a bit more underground to her knowledge. "We're going." Ruby looked at her like she'd grown another head.

"We are?"

"Come on, that cute guy from my organic chem class is gonna be there."

"When did you start taking organic chem?"

"When I saw the cute guy go into that class and I just started showing up." Ruby didn't even have the wherewithal to look ashamed. Emma started snickering.

"You don't even go to the classes in your major."

"But I pass them." Ruby winked. "So, Ems...are we going?"

"You cannot make me go up and recite poetry and you have to buy me two very large hot chocolates."

"Deal."

XXXXXX

Emma didn't join in Ruby's style of dress, opting instead for jeans tucked into her favorite boots, green t-shirt and comfy gray cardigan and quickly putting in her contacts before swiping on some mascara.. She also successfully convinced Ruby not to wear her old glasses, which didn't require much convincing when Ruby ran into a wall.

Grounds was definitely not catering to the masses. The front of the coffee house looked more like an abandoned building than a place to drink and eat. Emma followed Ruby into the building trepidatiously, but the inside was nicer. There were long couches against the walls and small circle tables in the middle, right in front of the corner stage. The espresso bar and pastry case was directly opposite the stage.

"Find us a seat. Hot chocolate with cinnamon coming up," Ruby said before leaving Emma. Most of the couches were full, so Emma made her way to the tables, choosing one toward the back. She actually recognized a few of her classmates as she got settled, but opted to not make her presence known. She was a little embarrassed to be at one of these things. English Literature really wasn't her forte, and poetry had been a little beyond even her most studiousness. There were two guys setting up a mic on the stage, but she didn't pay much attention until Ruby came back with her hot cocoa.

Emma took the warm libation gratefully.

"Are we on?" a rather lovely male accented voice broke through the murmurings of patrons. Emma sipped her cocoa and looked up to the stage. "All good then."

She wasn't aware that she'd frozen where she sat, mug in hands until Ruby sighed.

"Well, that's not cute guy, but he sure is pretty."

The guy at the mic, was indeed, 'pretty.' She noticed the hat first. Black with a white band, old school and classic, but not ridiculous. He wore skinny jeans (it was a poetry reading after all), and a blue plaid button down shirt that he'd buttoned all the way up. He was a little scruffy in the facial hair department (and boy did it work). Rectangular glasses that couldn't hide the absolute bright blue eyes. His lips were tinged pink as though he often licked them or bit them.

Which made Emma think of doing just those things to him.

He was really pretty.

"For those who are new this evening, I'm Killian Jones, and I work here when I'm not avoiding classes." Uni student too. "We started these readings last year and the process is pretty simple if you are nervous." He grinned here. And there it was. The flutter in her gut that Emma hadn't felt in a really long time. "You can do original poetry or you can read some of your favorite poems from the poet you just understood. My best mate over there,' He pointed to stage right. "Victor is in charge of taking names. Just head on over there and he'll put you down."

"Cute guy," Ruby breathed.

Emma looked over at 'Victor,' but the stage lights didn't illuminate him, so she couldn't agree or disagree with her friend.

"All we ask is that as an audience member, you are supportive of those on this hallowed stage." He winked at the audience. "My roommate has volunteered to go first."

"Hell no," came a gruff voice from the side of the stage.

"Let's hear it for Leroy!" Killian started snapping his fingers and the audience joined in. He walked off the stage as his friend, Leroy trudged to the mic. Emma watched as Killian said hello to those seated at the tables, dropping to kiss a few of the girls on the cheek.

Oh. He was that guy.

She looked back up at the stage, a bit miffed at herself for her immediate attraction to a charming, attractive 'player.' Surely she knew better.

Leroy stood at the mic, looking at it as though it were the enemy.

"A summation of everything:" He paused for dramatic effect and looked out into the audience. "My life sucks." There was silence as Emma waited for more, but he just dropped his head and stepped back from the mic. Snapping in the back began and trickled to the front.

"Seriously?" Emma leaned over to whisper to Ruby. Ruby shrugged and continued to snap her fingers. Emma just went back to her hot cocoa as another poet to be took the stage.

"I'm gonna go up and make contact," Ruby said after a large swallow of latte.

"Just gonna go up?"

Ruby pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "I brought a poem."

Emma's eyes widened. "You write poetry?"

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Not in this life. It's an actual poem, written by someone who can write poetry." She took a deep breath. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Ruby left their little table and Emma watched as her friend weaved through the small tables to where 'cute guy' sat, jotting down something on a pad of paper. Emma continued to drink her hot cocoa that was finally cool enough to really drink. She half-listened to the poet to be on the stage, her eyes watching those around her. She didn't see him, though.

She wasn't looking for him or anything.

XXXXXX

Killian leaned back against the front of the counter where his brother, Liam, rang up another customer. "Good turn out."

"Aye," Liam replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "Can I get you something, brother?"

Killian watched the guy on stage as he tried to sound as bored as possible. He wasn't sure if he appreciated that Dr. Nolan, the writing prof, made his students attend one of these and participate. This cargo khaki and polo-wearing miscreant was definitely one of the reluctant students.

"One shot," Killian answered the inquiry as he watched a tall, leggy brunette return to a table in the back. He wasn't sure why he thought she was leggy with that skirt on, but he had a feeling. She shot him a smirk before she sat. He returned it. Rather attractive lass, but it had been a long week and he wasn't really feeling like…

The brunette leaned over to her friend at the table, said something and the friend, blonde tresses tousled at her back, laughed. He could only see a little of her profile, her back was directly facing him, but her laugh and smile tugged at him.

It wasn't as blatant as the brunette's smirk or laugh, which was unabandoned and free. The blonde's was controlled, like she wanted to let go, but wouldn't. Why not?

He wanted to know.

"Liam?"

His brother handed him the espresso shot.

"What'd they get?" he nodded to the two girls sitting next to each other, now looking at the stage as someone read Blake's 'The Tyger.'

"The brunette got a red velvet latte and a hot chocolate with whip and cinnamon. Not sure which was which." Liam sighed. "I supposed I'm now making those two drinks?"

Killian turned to shoot his brother a wide grin. "It's like you know me."

Liam snorted. "God help me that I know what you're thinking."

XXXXXX

"Ruby Lucas," 'Cute guy' announced several minutes later.

"Oh boy," Ruby muttered before leaving Emma again. She walked to the stage, head held high and Emma watched with a smirk that 'cute guy' was definitely taking notice.

"Hi. I'm Ruby and this is my first time, so be gentle," she started, earning a few laughs and one wolf-whistle from the crowd. She smiled confidently. "I'll be reading 'What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why' by Edna St. Vincent Millay." She took a breath. "What lips my lips have kissed and where and why, I have forgotten-"

"Are you the latte or the cocoa?"

Emma looked up to see the emcee of the evening standing by her table, holding two mugs.

"The cocoa," she answered without thinking, her voice soft. He set one of the mugs down and slid into Ruby's chair. "I-"

Killian put a finger to his lips, nodding to the stage where Ruby continued. Her eyes lingered on his profile when he looked at her friend. His jaw line was especially distracting.

"That seat is-"

"Shh, lass," he said just as softly. "Your mate's got lovely inflection."

Emma huffed a little and looked back at the stage as Ruby started to wrap it up.

"I only know that summer sang in me a little while, that in me sings no more." Ruby let her voice soften at the end and there were snaps all around. Including Emma's new companion.

"Well done." He turned to Emma. "It'll get cold." He nodded to her cocoa.

"You can't just give me a drink." She protested.

"My brother made it," he tilted his head to the barista in the back. "He's really good."

It was disconcerting to have his full attention. Those eyes never wavering as he waited for her to respond.

"I don't know you."

"Killian Jones," he held out his hand without missing a beat. "And you are?"

"Not drinking this. You could have slipped something into it." Who was he to even think that she would just-?

Why the hell did she want to lean closer to him?

His smile dropped quickly, replaced with an offended expression. "Oh right. I'd do that." He shook his head before reaching over and took a swallow of her drink.

"Hey!"

He wiped his upper lip to remove the whip cream, licking it off his index finger. Emma subconsciously licked her own. He met her eyes heatedly and handed the mug back to her. "There you go. Tested." He smirked at her, eyes full of challenge.

She shook herself out of her daze. "I'm not going to drink-"

"Hello."

They both looked up at Ruby. Killian jumped up.

"Sorry lass, here you are." He pulled out the chair for her. Ruby sat in it, eyes curious. "Excellent reading as well."

"Really?"

"Aye. I took the liberty of getting you and your friend another drink."

"Thanks," Ruby said and took a sip of hers. "These are so good."

"You're welcome," his eyes fell to Emma. "I hope you enjoy them."

Emma's chin lifted, waiting for him to say something.

"Killian Jones." The announcement came over the speakers, halting the possibility of more conversation.

"That'd be me. Nice to meet you both." He tipped his hat to them, his eyes dark and mischievous. He headed up to the stage.

"What was that about?"

"I can't believe you drank that."

"I can't believe you didn't. It's a coffeehouse and you're with me. What do you think would happen?" Ruby paused. "Any sparks?"

Emma muttered under her breath as Ruby chuckled.

"Words."

Both girls looked up to the stage. Killian had begun.

"**Words**. I hate them.

**Overused**, **underused**,

bleeding, useless **words**."

He pulled the mic out of the stand to step off the stage.

"Words that **mean** nothing.

Words that dull and **numb**.

Words that **suck** the life out of you."

He paused, watching the crowd.

"I want **better** words.

Words that **fight**.

Words that **fly**

Beyond all our pretentious pandering."

He searched the group until his eyes landed on her.

"Better words.

Words that **smile**.

Words that **laugh**.

Words that sing with joyful abandon."

He walked toward them, eyes intent.

Emma swallowed hard.

"Better words.

Words that **seduce**."

He leaned down so they were barely separated by the mic.

"Words that **linger**," he formed each syllable slowly, like he was savoring the sound.

"**Long** after I'm gone.

After **you're** gone

and I miss the **color** of your voice."

She watched as his tongue touched his teeth, and something tightening inside her. His eyes nearly glowed that close.

He drew back before she could move away. Because she meant to move away.

"I hate **words**.

Bloody, useless **words**."

He headed back to the stage. He slipped the mic back into its stand. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes downcast.

"Words that made you

walk out the door.

**Forever**."

He stepped back from the stand in silence.

And the snapping began again. In earnest.

"Woah," Ruby said quietly so only Emma could hear.

Emma stared at him as he lifted his head, forcing a smile to his lips at the response he got before dipping his head in a small bow. He walked off the stage as the next person was announced. He slipped through those trying to congratulate him as he headed to the back.

Their eyes met and he nodded, cynical smirk on his lips as he slipped into the back room.

Emma looked down at her cocoa. That he'd drunk out of. She brought it to her lips and sipped it. It was mildly warm, but still good.

She should at least thank him.

XXXXXX

_the poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay is one of my favorites_


	2. Piercing Words

_follows and faves! thank you so much. i'm loving this world with emma and killian. the last part of the section is a little expositiony, sorry about that. it just happened. enjoy and please review if you'd be so kind. the validation I admit is really lovely. -gp28_

Emma waited until the amateur poets were all done, her hot chocolate was down to its dregs, and Ruby was giving her 'that look.' The best friend look that said 'you screwed up, be a woman, and just go deal with it.'

"Okay, I'm gonna get his number." Ruby stood and smoothed down her skirt. "He's behind the espresso machine, Ems."

"Cute guy?" Emma asked as though she was confused.

Ruby's expression spoke of annoyance. "No. Killian. Go. Shoo." She walked over to where 'Victor' was finishing up something with the list of readers and Leroy was dismantling the microphone. The music playing over the speakers was Fleet Foxes, and it added to the 'chill' vibe that the poetry had left on the venue. Emma took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing their leftover mugs.

She could only see his arm due to the size of the espresso machine and there was a short line at the register for more coffee confections. she might have spared an extra thought on how nice the arm was, the shape of it and definition of muscle. He'd rolled up the sleeves and slipped an apron around his narrow hips, making the transformation from self-aware poet to student barista without a hiccup.

She spared a few thoughts on his exposed forearms as well.

She saw the window into the kitchen behind him, complete with counter already stacked with used mugs and glasses. With her head held high, she walked to the far side of the counter and set the dishes as quietly as she could on the counter.

"You don't have to do that."

It was weird, right? That his voice she already has missed for the last hour when others had taken over the mic and droned on about anger, social justice, and sex? She turned just enough to see he wasn't looking at her, but was focused on making what looked like a cappuccino. She thought about just leaving, lying to Ruby about talking with him, but she was twenty-one now. She could at least be a little more bold about things like that.

So she leaned in the corner created by the wall and where the end of the counter with blenders and flavor powders rested. "I don't mind. You look busy."

He looked over at that moment as he steamed a pitcher of milk. "Aye. Uni students needing their caffeine." There was a hint of a smile in his eyes as though he might have forgiven her.

She mentally bristled that he even thought he should forgive her. And the relief that gave her.

He pulled the milk from the steamer and wiped it off with a wet cloth before tossing the rag over his shoulder. He poured the milk into a mug that had just received two shots of espresso. She watched in no small fascination. The steamed milk was smooth and when he set down the mug to offer to the customer, it looked perfect.

He grabbed another mug as the other employee called a drink to him. She decided not to speak until there was a lull. It wasn't like she was bored.

It was a dance. Watching him as he grabbed various ingredients from below in cabinets, and on top of the counter. The additions to basic espresso had a rhythm to it, its own as he stirred the vanilla powder in with espresso before adding milk. When he opened a cabinet door, he often closed it with his foot as he moved to grab something else. He hummed as he did this choreography, obviously something he'd done for awhile.

He set out one last drink and looked back to her. "Did you need a drink?"

"No. Two hot cocoas in one night is probably plenty," she forced a smile to her lips, faking confidence she didn't have at the moment.

"So you did drink the other one." He leaned against the counter, facing her. It was a subtle challenge, to coax her to admit that he was harmless.

Before speaking, she met his eyes and was again startled by the vibrancy of color.

Harmless was not a good adjective for Killian Jones.

"Yes." She bit her tongue to justify why being cautious when a complete stranger offered a drink was smart, not rude. "Thank you."

The right side of his lips quirked up. "You're welcome. Are you going to tell me your name?"

She bristled again and he caught it, but he didn't back off.

"You know my name, lass. Seems only fair." The accent lent his voice a charm that seemed to make what he said perfectly reasonable, if not desirable.

"Emma. Emma Swan."

He tilted his head to the side for a second. "That's like a fairytale."

She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for the drink. I can pay for it."

He shook his head. "Wouldn't take it." He glanced back at the register to make sure no one was ordering anything. "So, you didn't read any poetry."

She laughed, self-deprecating. "No. I came for moral support. I don't do poetry."

"No?" He leaned slightly closer. "Why not?" He was the strangest guy. His eyes stayed on hers as though he wanted to listen.

"I didn't get it when I had to take Lit. Not my thing." She breathed in a little too quick when she met his eyes. "I liked your poem." It had been understandable to her. Change the implied 'she' to 'he' and perhaps she could have written it herself.

The light in his eyes faded a touch. "Well, it's not Shakespeare."

"Might be why I liked it."

He grinned fully at that and she couldn't help but smile (a real one) back. Not smiling at his smile seemed impossible.

"Are you an English major?" she asked quickly, feeling her cheeks warm.

"No. Not a bit," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "History, geography, minor in journalism."

"Travel writer." She inferred and was rewarded with another smile.

"That would be the dream." He reached out and touched the shoelace wrapped around her wrist. "Interesting accessory."

He saw it. The walls go up as she shut him out. She took a step back. "I should let you work."

"Sore point?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question.

There was knowing in his eyes and it irked her. Her eyes flashed. "Who was your poem about?" she shot back.

He took a step back as well, the eyes taking on a cynical glint. "I'll tell you when you tell me what asshole hurt you so badly you won't accept a nonalcoholic drink from a would be friend."

She scoffed. "Yeah, you were getting me that drink so we could be 'friends.'" She bit out the last word with venom.

"Triple latte," the other employee called. Killian grabbed a mug.

"I have no qualms being friends with attractive lasses such as yourself. Perhaps I just wanted to know who you are." He grabbed a gallon of milk from under the espresso machine and pour it into a clean pitcher.

"Bullshit."

He left the milk to steam and moved so close that she couldn't move back without seeming like he was winning. "What are you suggesting then? That I wanted you?" He let his lips nearly touch hers. "That seeing such gorgeous hair and hearing your laugh pulled at me? That sitting next to you, smelling whatever lotion you use, and feeling your suspicious green eyes on me might have made me think things that best happen in a bedroom?" He felt rather than heard the catch in her breathing. "Good night, Emma Swan." And he pulled away to catch the milk before it burned.

She couldn't move for a second, but got over that quickly and spun on her heel back toward the table where Ruby and her things still sat. She grabbed her purse, slinging it on her shoulder and grabbed Ruby's coat before seeking out her friend.

From behind the espresso bar, Killian rested his forehead against the top of it as espresso poured into another mug.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was beyond intolerable, really. That a week later, Emma was still thinking about him. She was in her Family Communications class (it was extra for her psych and criminal studies, but she thought with her dearth of family in general, a class in the dynamics of familial relationships would cover her lack of experience). She zoned out on the lecture as she fingered the leather that wrapped her wrist.

Graham was gone. The boy she'd palled around with for the last two years of high school, orphan like her, his absence kept a hole in her heart that she had no desire to fill.

She snorted cynically to herself. She had so many holes in her heart, it was practically swiss cheese. The family hole that gradually was closing due to Ruby, and David and Mary Margaret. David was in the same major as she, criminal studies and through him she'd met his long time girlfriend, Mary Margaret, education major. They lived together in a tiny apartment just a few blocks from the main part of campus and Emma (and Ruby) were often invited over for meals, game nights and classic movie viewings.

It was a makeshift family for sure, but it was definitely more family than Emma had ever had.

Graham had been family, too. Sure, everyone else at school had thought there was something between the two loners and Emma wasn't immune to the other's good looks and silent, but protective nature. But it never became that, instead Graham had become Emma's confidante, best friend, and brother.

There weren't a lot of options for orphans once their eighteenth year came round. There was college (meagerly paid by the government that didn't cover much other than crappy dorm housing and tuition), finding a low paying job, or the military. Emma, not a diligent student, but extremely bright and able to gain a scholarship and financial assistance had chosen college.

Graham had chosen the army.

Emma stared at the shoelace again as the professor ended his lecture. She'd put it on when he'd left for boot camp. It hadn't left her wrist since.

She was still thinking of the poet from Grounds. Instead of Graham's sober blue eyes, they'd been overtaken by another blue: piercing, glowing and twinkling with mischief and intent.

Emma shut her eyes to blot out the image before gathering her books and laptop to head to lunch.

As she headed to the dining room, she stayed lost her in her thoughts, forcing her mind from Killian to the other holes in her heart.

Graham had left a hole, yes, but it only hurt in a way that old memories did: sore, but warm; the mix of loss and happiness leaving her grateful for the good despite the bad. It was bearable.

The hole Neal had left was a constant irritation and tended to flare up at the most inopportune moments. Killian's question about who had hurt her so she couldn't accept a drink had more or less poured salt on an open wound. The reminder that any man interested in her past true platonic interaction was not to be trusted.

Emma tightened her hold on her textbook as she entered the dining room. She easily found Ruby who was with David and Mary Margaret near the windows. Emma forced the miasma of introspective thoughts back down into the deepest part of her heart and smiled at her family before joining them.


	3. Entreating Words

_a/n - more lovely follows and reviews and faves! thank you very much. inspiration comes from slammed by colleen hoover and easy by tammara webber (i think, who knows?) and my own wishful college dreams. if you like, please review as that makes my life these days. _

_disclaimer: still don't own the characters from OUAT. _

Killian picked up a copy of _Full Tilt_ by Dervla Murphy off the shelf at the off campus Barnes and Noble, flipping it over to scan his eyes along the blurb on the back. He rolled his shoulders back, stretching tense muscles from a late night working at Grounds. It wasn't glamorous work, but he enjoyed spending time with his brother amidst the classes, studying, and occasional social outings. His brother was the only family he had left.

Killian checked the price of the book and sighed, knowing he needed to use the library more, but he really enjoyed owning books as well as just reading them. His room at the apartment that he shared with Liam had books lining most of the walls. They were his escape as well as his lifeblood. Words were the only way he'd make something of himself.

He hoped anyway.

He started toward the register when he caught sight of her blonde hair. How he knew it was hers and not some other blonde co-ed, well, he didn't want to dwell too much on that. Or the fact that he'd never been quite so attracted to blondes before. His muse had been brunette.

He peered around the bookshelf, not sure why he was attempting to be covert. She was not alone by any means. Next to her was a petite brunette, not the brunette from the night at Grounds. This one had a pixie cut and perhaps the most faerie-like countenance he'd seen.

Shit, he needed to stop reading Keats and Byron.

Emma (he still felt odd when he thought of her like that. She usually manifested as 'Swan' in his beleaguered brain) had a book in hand and was half-listening to her friend. She had a slight smile on her lips that he coveted.

He realized that his peeking around a bookshelf wouldn't do him any favors if he was caught, so he made his way again toward the register which put him in their path.

"Hello Swan."

Her head shot up at his voice, eyes widened and suspicious. She had known it was him before seeing him; he was sure of it. With a charming smile, he turned to her friend.

"Killian, you are?"

"Mary Margaret," the brunette informed him, shooting a bewildered look at Emma.

"What do you want?" Emma asked. "Are you stalking me?"

"Ah, no, lass. Pleasant as that sounds." He injected a healthy dose of sarcasm into that before holding up the book in his hand. "Giving into the need for escape. You?"

She pressed her lips together, eyes still untrusting. She wasn't going to answer him. He tried to see what book she held, but she had it against her chest. Killian turned back to Mary Margaret.

"Nice to meet you. Any time you fancy a free coffee, come by Grounds. My brother runs the place and pays me a pittance to tend the espresso bar," He winked and then nodded his head like a mini-bow from days gone by and continued to the register to buy his book. He could feel her eyes as he did.

"What was that?" he heard the brunette say.

"It's nothing."

Killian handed his book to the clerk.

"Nothing with you is always something."

He smiled before handing over some cash and taking the book in bag. He turned to see the two girls still standing where he left them.

"Ladies." He smirked at Emma before passing by her, his arm brushing against hers before exiting the establishment. He walked down the sidewalk, his heart pounding in a way that didn't match the small interaction. An errant thought flashed in his brain that it had been awhile since his heart had increased like that for anyone.

XXXXX

He saw her before she walked in. She was with Ruby, the brunette with the legs, Mary Margaret, and a tall man with light hair and a way of walking that commanded respect. Killian recognized the walk because his brother had it. It was poetry night and it looked like Ruby had brought a crowd. He knew that Victor had gone out with Ruby, but Killian had been reticent about asking about Ruby's friend, trying to not seem middle school about the blonde. And Victor, who barely stopped studying to do much of anything, especially go out with a girl, not just sleep with her, seemed to actually like Ruby. Killian wouldn't mess with that. Ever.

He reached back to grab the hot chocolate powder and started a new pitcher of milk. By the time Ruby walked up to the counter, he was almost done.

"Are you not performing tonight?" Ruby asked him with a smile.

"Not tonight." He sprinkled cinnamon over the whipped cream and set it on the counter. "What else'll you have?"

Ruby gave him a conspiring look about the hot cocoa and he shrugged, unrepentant. "I'll have that red velvet latte, and some nice herbal tea and americano. Why aren't you reading tonight?" she asked, pouting.

"The muse isn't speaking, sweetheart," he waved her money away. "First one on the house."

"Why? Because I brought her back?"

Killian met her eyes. "I promised the pixie one a drink on the house. And seeing as you are getting Victor out of the library from time to time, I'm beholden to you."

"I'll remember that." She winked at him as he set about to make the other drinks. He had them on a tray for her in a few minutes, his eyes darting to where they'd all sat. Her back was to him, but he didn't mind. The ponytail and glasses that he could see was enough to satisfy him for the time being.

Killian waited a few minutes for his brother to return from the back room before heading up to the stage, still in apron, to get the night started.

"Welcome, welcome," he began. "Our little readings seem to have grown and I speak for myself and my brother that we appreciate that you come and contribute to both the love of poetry and capitalism." There was some laughter and he grinned and looked for her. "Please feel free to sign up with Leroy over here if you've a penchant for sharing your soul with us. I'll be in the back if you fancy a coffee or hot chocolate." He winked at her before heading back to the espresso bar.

The reading got started and Killian was busy with a long line of drinks. He hummed to himself as he worked, occasionally looking around the bar to where she sat. Either she wasn't turning around to look at him or he just missed catching her. He grinned to himself, amused at the lightness about the whole situation. He should be put off, with her refusing to speak to him in the bookstore or the fact that she'd purposely found his vulnerable spot in regards to his poem. He should just let her be and pursue someone more receptive. But he wasn't wired like that.

Someone returned the mugs, but it wasn't her this time. It was the guy.

"Thank you, mate," Killian said as he dropped a shot into macchiato.

"She doesn't want you staring at her."

He looked up in surprise. He wasn't completely stupid. The guy was taller, and probably could and would beat the shit out of him if so desired. But there was something in his eyes that told Killian this wasn't a jealous boyfriend response. "You speak for her?"

The jaw clenched ever so much. "She doesn't have to say it."

"Well then, no offense, but I'll stop when she asks." He set out a drink for someone before facing the other. "Killian." He held out his hand after wiping it on his apron.

There was a flicker of something that Killian mused could be admiration in the other's eyes, but it was pretty quick. But his hand was shook, firmer than needed be.

"David."

"Another americano? Or were you the herbal tea?"

David cocked his head to the side. "You remember drinks?"

"In my sleep, unfortunately."

"Decaf americano, if you would." He paused as Killian set up two shots. He opened his mouth to speak, but Killian beat him to it.

"Is this the moment where we ask obligatory 'what is your major' questions?"

David smiled. "I was going to say thank you. Actually." He took the americano from Killian and offered him a set of bills.

"Anything for the ladies?"

"Not at the moment."

"One tick," Killian answered and took the money to the register to make change. He came back and handed it over. "Appreciate your patronage."

David chuckled as though he couldn't help it and nodded before heading back to the table. When he sat, Emma turned around (finally) and Killian just smiled at her. She turned back around, but not before her lips parted just slightly.

XXXXX

When the reading was over, Victor walked over to join their table and Emma looked back at the coffee bar. He was still there, this time handing a drink to a girl who was giggling and flirting with him. He smiled back and Emma frowned.

Oh god, why did she frown? Why did she care?

Ruby had suckered her in to coming again (she really needed to learn to deny her friends from time to time) and even Emma could admit that she wanted to see him again. She'd been so floored seeing him at the bookstore. Which was stupid because it wasn't like he lived at the coffeehouse, but she hadn't been prepared to see him again. And for some reason she needed to be prepared.

She knew that she'd overreacted when he'd mentioned the shoelace. And that she attacked him by asking about the poem. She knew it, just like she understood that he got it. What she'd done and why she'd done it.

And wasn't that just grand?

"You could go talk with him?" Mary Margaret suggested in her soft voice. Emma looked at her friend. "Maybe clear the air?"

She hadn't told much to Mary Margaret about him. Just the basics. There were things that hit too close to home with Killian. Reasons in her past that she wasn't inclined to share with anyone. And it felt ridiculous to feel so attracted to a guy, so quickly. She wasn't silly about guys. Not anymore.

That was it. She'd fallen for Neal in little to no time. She wasn't about to repeat her past failures. Charming rogues were not her type anymore.

Emma sighed. "I don't wanna." She grinned at her own petulant tone which made Mary Margaret smile as well. "Which means I totally should." She stood up and left the couples to themselves and headed to the bar.

He saw her coming (he'd have sensed it had he lost his sight. he had god damn radar on her) and moved to the end of the bar to offer her a smile.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She was surprised that he constantly smiled at her after she'd been rude...twice. "My conscience."

His smile faltered. "Pardon?"

She swallowed, but didn't look away from his gaze. "I was pretty harsh last time I was here. I'm sorry. And at the bookstore, I just...I'm sorry." She waited for his response.

"Thank you." He gave them a second before continuing. "We seem to find ways to be at odds, darling." He cleaned off the steamer as he continued. "Perhaps we should just go out."

"What?" that was not what she was expecting.

"Go out. Away from my place of employment. I buy you dinner and we talk. I assume you eat." The smirk almost made her grin back.

"But why do you think we should go out? You just said we were at odds."

"Good things are often not easy," he replied. "You could pick the place and have your brother over there even come and watch out for you."

"Brother?" She turned back to see David watching them. "David? He's not my brother."

"Perhaps not technically, but in spirit, very much so." He leaned against the partition dividing the space between them. "How about it?"

"You're asking me on a date?"

"Yes."

"I thought you wanted just to be my friend." She raised her eyebrows.

He ducked his head for a second before looking up at her, through those dark lashes and biting his lower lip. "Friendship doesn't exclude buying a beautiful woman dinner."

Her eyes dropped to his lips which she was sure was deliberate on his part. "I don't know."

He stepped back, regarding her for a second before reaching out and taking her hand. She didn't pull away for reasons she couldn't have explained. He grabbed a pen out of his pocket and scribbled something on the back of her hand. She could see it was a number.

"My mobile," he explained as he capped the pen. He seemed to notice then that he was holding her hand and ran his thumb along her knuckles. She did pull away at that moment. He slid the pen back in his pocket. "When you do know, you can text me or call me or whatever your fancy."

She looked at the number, still feeling his hand on hers. She nodded before taking a few steps back. He watched her turn back and join her friends. They left not much later and when she got to the door to exit, she paused as though she would look back. He hoped for it, but she didn't.

He banked on that pause though.


	4. Enticing Words

_a/n - thank you, thank you for all follows, faves and reviews. it brings so much joy. hope you enjoy this one as well-gp28_

_disclaimer: don't own a thing, i swear. _

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_Written any more poetry?_

_This is Emma, btw._

Killian looked around the library before back at his phone screen. She'd texted him. It was a shame that he was in the library and not in his bedroom where he could do a victory dance in private.

Instead he just did very minor fist pump and thought about what to reply with.

**Fraid not. Midterms are coming round to bleed me of all creativity.**

_on this end as well. minus the creativity part. i'm already void of that._

**I doubt that, lass. I imagine if truly angry, your insults would be very creative.**

_lol. not untrue. so…_

**So?**

_this is me contacting you._

**I'm well aware of that.**

_Don't be smug._

**Not a bit.**

_Look. my friends and i are all going bowling on Wednesday. would you like to come?_

He heard a world of gritted teeth and frustration in that 'look.'

**I would indeed.**

_7. at the Lanes._

**I will be there.**

**And thank you, Swan.**

_It's just bowling._

He grinned at the petulant response and typed again.

**I'm easily impressed.**

_don't make me regret this. and what's with the swan thing?_

**Seems to suit you.**

_whatever. i guess i'll see you then._

**till then.**

He placed his phone back on the table he'd confiscated in the back from some rather affectionate couple. He had no issue with the public display of affection, but tables in the university library were few and far between. It was rather selfish of them to take one when the backseat of a car was just as nice. He opened up another Word document and glanced at his interview notes.

He would never be a reporter. He sighed and looked at his phone again.

God, was he still smiling?

XXXXX

"I did it." Emma pushed her phone away from herself across the table. Ruby grinned brightly at her before accepting the cup of tea from Mary Margaret. David had left not long prior when it was obvious that there would soon be an impromptu girls' day. She also took the warm mug from Mary Margaret. "He said he'd come."

"You look so excited," Ruby scoffed.

Emma just shot her a look.

"This is good," Mary Margaret began. "I mean, none of us know much about him. Him coming out with us gives all of us a chance to see if he's good enough for you."

Emma snorted in response. "Because bowling brings out the truth of people."

"Competition always does," Mary Margaret said sagely. "Be honest, Ems. You are a little interested."

"A little? She has dreams."

"Ruby!" Emma protested. "I had one dream and I'm not even sure who the guy was."

Ruby just shrugged and smiled smugly before enjoying her tea.

"It was after you met him," Ruby reminded her.

"I hate you," Emma said before looking at Mary Margaret. "He's good-looking and speaks poetry I actually understand. That's not love at first sight or anything. Not everyone is you and David."

"Which is good," Mary Margaret said softly. "I like our story as ours."

"And Victor is coming, so it's a nice even number and Victor and Killian are best friends, so he'll have someone he knows while David stares daggers at him."

"David will not," Emma reached out to touch her phone idly.

"David will," Mary Margaret agreed. "He would with Ruby's suitors as well, but I think he's a little afraid of her."

"I like when a man is scared of me," Ruby piped up.

"It's just a bowling thing," Emma said, getting up. "That's all."

"Would you kiss him?" Ruby asked.

"Who wouldn't?" Emma answered before leaving the table to go to the bathroom for a few minutes. She loved her best friends, but sometimes they were so normal. Normal families, normal upbringings; both imbued with confidence in themselves and the human race that Emma just lacked.

She took a few deep breaths, recognizing the anxiety starting to creep up in her chest. She wasn't a coward. He was just a guy. It was just a group thing.

But she hadn't lied. It would be ever so easy to kiss that mouth. His eyes were the most distracting feature, but she'd noticed those lips, pinkened naturally in a way that definitely triggered the kind of dreams Ruby had referenced.

"EMMA!" Ruby hollered. "We're playing Cards against Humanity. Get your ass out here."

XXXXX

After she and Ruby headed back to their room, Emma begged off a movie night to do some work. But she first sat on the edge of her bed, looking at her phone. She felt compelled to text him again. Which was stupid. She didn't know him.

_Where do you study?_

**Library today. Sometimes Grounds. You?**

_There's a tree across from the Science building. When it's nice, I like it there._

**I know that tree! I don't blame you a bit. The quad is picturesque.**

_When it's cold like now, I camp out on our sofa, wrapped in like three blankets._

**With hot chocolate and cinnamon?**

She smiled at that.

_Seems unfair that you know my drink and I don't know yours._

**We men must have our secrets. If you women know too much, you'd take over the world and enslave us all.**

She laughed, covering her mouth even though she was alone.

_You are wise beyond your years to realize that._

**I must admit I have several responses to that, none of which are probably appropriate.**

_See? Wise._

**lol. thank you, lass.**

_I'd better get to doing my own studying. see you wednesday._

**yes indeed. have a good evening, swan.**

_you too, Jones._

**touche**.

She set her phone on her nightstand and let out a sigh.

XXXXX

"There is nothing that says fashion like bowling shoes."

Emma smiled at Victor as they sat on the plastic seats at their lane, both tying on their shoes.

"Are you one for fashion?" she asked goodnaturedly.

"I don't buy magazines, but…" he looked pointedly at his red and blue shoes. "I know what is not fashion."

She chuckled before finishing the bow on her right shoe. She looked down the alley to the entrance.

"He'll be here."

She blushed. She couldn't help it and she'd been caught. But she dismissed any embarrassment and looked at him. "Oh?"

Victor smiled, almost too broadly. "Oh indeed. He had a shift at Grounds, so he'll probably grab a shower before getting here."

Why on earth had he put that image in her brain?

"How long have you two known each other?" she asked as she watched Ruby try to find a bowling ball.

"Freshman year. We were stuck in the same composition 101 class. We both hated it. Me, more so." He stretched out his legs.

"Best friends?"

"Pretty much. He kinda disappeared when Milah came into his life…" he pursed his lips in thought, "But hard to blame him for that."

"Milah?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Oh. Yeah. Probably not a subject you two have talked about." He shrugged. "Sorry. He'll kill me for that one." He got up without letting her ask anything else.

She sat there for a moment, brain trying to grasp the significance. David came over with a tray full of food; hot dogs and nachos, Mary Margaret behind him with beers and soda.

"So where's your date?" David asked with the tact of an anvil.

"David," Mary Margaret hissed.

"Victor said he had to work before, so I'm guessing he might be late," she shrugged before grabbing a chip as he set down the tray. With that, her cell buzzed in her back pocket.

On my way.

Emma showed David the text. "See?"

David rolled his eyes as Victor and Ruby came back with bowling balls. "We'll just stick him at the end of the rotation so he has time."

"We have two lanes," Ruby interrupted as she set the ball in the track of the ball-returning machine. "Boys versus girls."

Emma grinned at that. "Definitely."

Victor laughed. "Well, that's an easy win."

Ruby shot him a look and his smile dropped.

"I mean, it's not," he stuttered. "Good competition."

"Better believe it." Ruby said before entering the girls' names in the computer.

Mary Margaret sighed heavily. "This will end badly." And she sat down, feet twisting out and in. Emma sat next to her as Ruby continued to set up the teams.

"David goes first," Ruby said once the teams were up on the board. Emma looked up as the game started. Killian's name was right across from hers.

"Sorry I'm late."

Texting would no longer be nice if she couldn't hear his voice.

"Killian!" Victor greeted his friend with a slap on the back, offering him his beer.

Emma looked over, cautiously. Her date (if one was to call him that) waved away Victor's beer before shaking David's hand. His hair was damp, as though he'd just rubbed it quickly with a towel. He wore a grey shirt and dark vest with jeans. He was, as always, completely mouth-watering.

He met her eyes after a quick second, his already bright smile brightening even more. "Swan."

"Jones."

He sighed. "That's how it's gonna be?" He sat down next to her to slip off his boots and started to tie up the bowling shoes.

"You started it." She didn't even mind that she sounded childish. He just grinned wider at her. "Glad you could make it."

The smile became more serious. "Wouldn't have missed it." He glanced up to see Victor on his second try. "You look good." He stood up to go and find a bowling ball.

Emma stared after him as Ruby plopped down next to him. "He is so exceptionally pretty, Ems. There's a little part of me, kinda jealous."

Emma rolled her eyes before looking back at her friend. "Have at it."

"Oh please," she nodded to Victor who was pumping his fists up when he got a spare and high fived David. "I definitely like that one. Besides, it wouldn't work because he only looks at you like that." She patted Emma on the leg. "Your turn."

Emma shook her head and grabbed her ball, feet taking her to the line. She slipped her fingers in the holes and waited, thinking.

"It's not chess, love."

She looked over to see that he was waiting in the other lane for her to go. She grimaced at him, her mind lingering on his use of 'love.'

"Remember that when I kick your ass," she retorted.

He gestured with his hand for her to do just that.

She swung her arm back and let the ball go. It rolled straight down the center, only swerve a little at the end, but in so doing, knocked down all the pins.

The girls behind her whooped loudly and Emma shot a haughty look over at Killian. He just shrugged like he'd been expecting it. She walked back to the ball retriever, and waited as he took his turn.

They all watched in absolute shock as the ball slid into the gutter only a foot or two from where he'd let it go.

"What the hell, man?" David started.

"He is really bad," Victor said. "Probably should have mentioned it. Like notoriously crappy."

Killian just turned and gave her a small smile, his hands lifting up in a 'what can you do' gesture. Emma waited for him to reach the machine.

"You can't bowl."

"I cannot." He glanced over at Ruby who was practically guffawing and Mary Margaret who was snickering behind her hand.

"Why did you come then?"

Her gaze was caught in his. "I would think that was obvious."

Her cheeks warmed, but she spoke up. "Do you want some pointers?"

"Aye. I would." He grabbed his ball. "If you would be so kind."

She followed him to his lane. He stood and waited.

"Get into position."

One eyebrow quirked up.

"Don't even say it," she warned.

"Not a word," he said sincerely, smirking the whole time. He held the ball up as though about to swing it.

"Now swing it, but don't let go."

He did and she moved behind him, grabbing his shoulders.

"Square them toward the pins. Make sure your right hand follows the line of the center dot on the floor, the one you want it to follow." He did so and she could feel the moving of his muscles under her hand. And she really tried not to dwell on that. "And let your arm follow through well after you've let go of the ball," she instructed, her hands still on his shoulders. "Now try it again."

"Will you still be touching me, lass? Because I'm not sure my concentration will be all that good."

She huffed and he laughed before she pinched his shoulder and moved away. He swung back and let go. The ball moved down a lot further, but slipped into the gutter about a yard from the pins.

There was a muffled curse from David behind them. Killian turned to Emma, eyes lit up.

"That was better."

She laughed. "Yeah, it was. Maybe next time we'll go for knocking down a pin or two."

XXXXX

It was on their second game (the girls won easily and they decided to go blondes vs. brunettes for the second) when he sat next to her as they were waiting for Ruby to come back from the little girls room.

"Are you having fun?" he asked, his arm on the back of her chair. She noticed the beer in his hand, also noticed that he'd only had the one so far this evening. Which was surprising to her as most college guys had a good three within an hour.

"Beating you guys was pretty fun," she answered, sipping her coke. "You?"

"Much." He leaned closer. "I'd like to wager something with you."

"Oh?"

"Seeing as I'm atrocious at this game."

"You are."

"Oi. Thank you." He set the beer down and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. "If I get a strike in the next frame…"

"There is no way you will get a strike. You haven't even gotten a spare."

"Well then, it's an easy wager."

"If you get a strike?"

"You'll read at poetry night."

She straightened. "That's what you want?" She'd expecting something really different.

"Oh," he moved even closer, hand coming up to rest on her back. She shivered. "There's a lot I want. But let's start with this."

"And if you do not get a strike?" she prompted.

"What do you want from me?"

Because there was no way he would expect it. "You promise to try for a strike?"

"Of course. I like to win."

"A kiss then."

The look of pure shock on his face at her request was priceless. She'd completely thrown him and it was stupid, but it felt like triumph.

"A kiss?" he repeated, his voice huskier. She shrugged, playing innocent.

"You promised you'd try to get a strike."

"That I did." His eyes flickered to her lips. The color and shape that he might have thought about before. "You are far more evil than you seem, Swan."

She just grinned at him.

"Do we have an accord?" he offered his hand.

She shook it. "An accord." Neither immediately let go and he leaned in without thinking about it.

"Alright you two," David called. "Ruby bowled and it's his turn. Break it up."

Killian glanced at the other man and just nodded before pulling himself away from Emma. He grabbed the ball and walked up to the line, trying to remember the pointers she'd given him.

Who was he kidding? He really wanted to kiss her.

He threw the ball with very little conviction and turned to go collect his winnings (or losings, but semantics) when he heard Mary Margaret and Ruby cheer. He watched as Emma began to laugh and he turned to see all the pins knocked down as his ball rolled to the back.

"Fuck," he breathed and looked at Emma again.

"A bet's a bet," she said, trying to hide her disappointment, but it was funny. But now she had to read a poem. In front of people.

Great.


	5. Teasing Words

a/n - school was cancelled today and yesterday so guess what i'm doing?! well, i suppose it's obvious. :) enjoy and thanks for all the lovely responses-gp28

**Teasing Words**

The blondes won. Killian was truly a liability to have on any team, but he took it in good humor.

"So," he began as they got in line to return their shoes and pay. "You don't drink?"

She looked at the empty cup in her hand. "Sometimes." She wrinkled her nose. "It's lame, but usually not on a week night. My freshman year…"

"I think that was everyone's freshman year," he said, understanding. "Just curious."

"You want to see me drunk?" She set her bowling shoes on the counter. He caught the hint of a smile in her voice and on her lips.

"Tipsy, yes. Smashed, not so much." He didn't try to deny it and pulled out his wallet. "For the lady and I," he told the clerk.

"No, I invited you." She moved to push his money away.

"Ah, please love?" He pouted. "You did ask me and I'm eternally grateful, but it will bother me to no end if you pay for yourself."

She took in that pout, the lower lip stuck out just like a child's. It did make her smile, but the rest of her thoughts weren't childish. Ever since the moment of him kissing her had been stolen, she kept thinking about his lips. What they would feel like. What they might taste like.

Blushing, she removed her hand. "I buy next time." Her mouth parted at her own words as he stilled. The clerk went about making change as Killian let out a breathless chuckle.

"Next time. Okay." He met her eyes then. It was truly astonishing, the color and brightness of his eyes. "Another accord."

She smiled nervously, knowing she should take back her words. She doesn't want to commit to anything until she has some time to think. The evening had been fun, more than she'd expected, but she hadn't had time to think about anything as of yet.

He took his change from the clerk and the two of them walked to the doors as the others finished up.

"You'll be heading home with Ruby, no doubt?"

She nodded, watching him slip his wallet in his back pocket. "I like the vest, by the way."

He half-grinned. "I'll keep that bit of information handy." He stuck his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. "You should come study at Grounds some time."

"I should?"

His smile turned cheeky. "Aye."

She couldn't help but grin back. There was something about him that made her smile despite her concerns.

"Maybe I will."

"Ready to go?" Ruby asked as she and Victor slid up next to them.

Emma nodded and the four of them headed to the parking lot. David and Mary Margaret were trailing behind, being sickeningly sweet as they usually were. Ruby and Victor slid over to the other side of Ruby's car, leaving Killian and Emma awkwardly alone. He leaned back against his car.

"I guess I'll see ya," she said, posture mirroring his with her hands tucked into her pockets.

"You owe me a poetry reading," he reminded her.

She heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I know."

His answering sigh was melodramatic. "I've never been so bloody depressed about losing a bet."

She laughed, and didn't think about it, taking a step closer to him. He watched her, the smile dropping as his eyes burned into hers and he licked his lips.

"I'm glad you came."

"As am I, love," he breathed as she leaned in and brushed her lips against his cheek. It was not more than a breath against his skin, but he felt it.

"Consolation prize," she whispered and drew back. If possible, his eyes were even bluer. He'd smelled nice, like soap and something else that she couldn't just place yet. His scruff had tickled her lips and she pressed them together to hold onto the sensation.

He stared at her, the pretty blush on her cheeks barely visible in the dim light from a streetlamp. Her green eyes hidden from his sight for the moment. She wasn't wearing her glasses tonight, though he liked those. Her hair was half pulled back, showing enough of her neck to make him rethink his penchant for legs over necks.

She reminded him of classic paintings of angels except for the fact that he was pretty sure she could and would kick his ass if she wanted to.

Which was probably why he didn't kiss her back even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to do just that.

"Off we go," Ruby said once she'd finished saying a very passionate goodnight to Victor. Killian rolled his eyes, making Emma laugh again and she just nodded her head before getting in the passenger seat.

Killian watched as the car drove away and Victor came up next to him.

"Haven't seen that look since her." Emphasis solely on 'her.'

Killian closed his eyes and looked at his friend. "How many tonight?"

"Four beers."

"I'm driving."

"Of course you are," Victor said, stumbling into Killian's car. "But I'm right you know? You like her. A lot."

"Shut up Whale, and don't be a git," Killian muttered as he started the car, knowing he'd have to wake up to pick up Victor the next day and bring him back for his own car, but he'd deal.

"She's not like Milah."

"I said shut it."

"I'm just saying," he continued from the backseat. "I think your taste has gotten better with age."

He let out a sigh. "Thanks mate."

XXXXX

He was running late to work. His last article hadn't been what the professor had deemed good enough. It was more than frustrating to write about things he didn't care about in a style that he wasn't really all that good in, no matter how hard he tried.

He was back to not sleeping all that well.

_"But…"_

_"It was fun. You had fun. I had fun, but it's over."_

_"I thought we-" He was unable to continue. She was packed, her things gone. Anything he said would be pitiful at this point._

_Her eyes pitied him anyway. "The truth? You're too much, Killian. Everything...just too much for one person to handle." _

_He didn't even see her walk out the door._

He rubbed his eyes before sliding his glasses back on as he stumbled through the back door. He grabbed an apron and washed his hands before tying it on.

"You're late." His brother, king of punctuality and perfect work ethic. It was a standard Killian didn't expect to live up to.

"Sorry," he muttered, moving to the espresso machine.

"Can you go pick up the main room first?" Liam looked at his brother carefully. The dark shadows under his eyes were evident and so was the lack of smile.

"Sure." And he grabbed the black plastic bin from the kitchen window, and moved to collecting mugs and trash. He didn't greet any of the customers as he picked up after them. He just felt his exhaustion and frustration grow with every mug, napkin, and plate.

"Hi."

He looked up not even realizing that she was there. She was at one of the couches, her bag at her feet, books piled up next to her and her laptop open. Her golden hair was lit by one of the lamps and he wasn't sure if he was just happy to see her, or glad that she wasn't anyone else.

"Emma," he let out his breath, unaware that he'd been braced for some type of blow. "You're here."

"Yep." She smiled nervously at him. "Victor is with Ruby so I kind of felt like studying there would be…"

"Awkward?" he supplied before grabbing two plates from the table next to where she sat. He placed them in the bin. "It's good to see you."

It had been almost a week since bowling. He'd texted her once and the conversation had been nice, but that'd been it. He felt like he was just waiting for midterms to be over. Or perhaps he was just being overly cautious. He knew that any of his regular advances would probably be laughed at or he'd be punched.

"Yeah. You too." She peered at him. "You okay? You look...well, worn out."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Just not sleeping. Too much studying." He forced a smile. "Finished?" he pointed to the empty mug.

"Oh, yeah." she handed it to him, and his fingers brushed over hers. He watched the blush return. "Thanks." She pulled her hand back. A few seconds passed. "You're staring at me."

"I am."

She huffed. "Well, could you stop?" And with that, the frustration and exhaustion took a back seat.

"As you wish," he winked with a grin and headed to continue his clean up. She watched him go, eyes lingering on his frame. He wasn't as tall as David or as solid as Neal. He kind of reminded her of old photos of boxers in Ireland, where they weren't extremely large, but all muscle and sinews.

Oh god, why was she thinking about him in such detail?

Ruby had practically interrogated her on the way home from the bowling alley. Emma hadn't said much past that it had been fun and yeah, she'd kissed him on the cheek. Ruby had been more than disappointed. The fact that kissing him on the cheek was still stuck in Emma's mind was absurd. She'd done a lot more with guys than that in her twenty-one years. That something so little would cause her to blush so much needed to be taken care of.

So she'd shown up at his coffee house to see if maybe she was an idiot and it was just attraction and lust and then they could just deal with that. But just seeing him, with dark circles and a tired grin, tugged at her heart.

Her damn heart.

She went back to her studying. She glanced at the clock to see an hour had well passed and she pondered about getting something not just drink but to eat.

"Can I join you?"

She nodded as he offered her a mug of her chocolate and sat down next to her. He sipped whatever coffee he carried with him and offered her a bite of muffin. She shook her head.

"I should probably think about getting dinner." She closed her laptop and shoved it in her bag. She took a deep breath. "When are you off?"

His eyebrows rose. "Not till ten."

She frowned a little.

"Were you going to ask me to dinner?" he asked, teeth showing in a bright smile.

"You really don't have to sound so ridiculously smug about it."

"Can't help it." He nudged her with his shoulder. "It's like we're getting along."

"Seriously?" She shot him a glare. "Don't push it."

He nodded and shut his mouth before taking another swig of his drink. "I don't work tomorrow evening."

She sighed. "I can't." She zipped up her bag and looked over at him. "I work too."

"What do you do?"

"I sort old case files at the station. Doesn't pay much, but it gives me a chance to be there. Learn from the environment." She took her mug from the floor and wrapped both hands around it to bring it to her mouth.

"What about lunch?"

"I'm done with my class right before one."

He let his head fall back. "Class at one."

She chuckled. "Seems to be a sign."

"I won't accept that." He lifted up his head to meet her eyes. "I want to see you."

A tremor of something went through her at his words. "Yeah."

He leaned in closer, before reaching out to thumb a touch of cocoa off the corner of her lips. With his eyes never leaving hers, he brought his thumb to his mouth, sucking off the errant chocolate.

Oh she could never deny that there wasn't a good amount of attraction.

"That was my cocoa."

His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. "Aye, so it was." He covered the distance between them, his breath mingling with hers. "Shall you take it back then?"

Even if her breath was shaky and her heart pounding, the complete confidence in his voice was noticeable. She moved just the slightest, letting her lips almost touch his. Before tugging his drink away from him and taking a sip. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes narrow and a low growl sound.

"Fair is fair," she said after swallowing.

"A bloody temptress, you are." He took back his drink.

She noticed that his accent had deepened. And she might have entertained the notion that she affected him like that and she might just have been pleased with that notion.

"When are you going to read, love?" he changed the subject and her smile vanished.

"I haven't figured out what I would read." She went back to her hot drink. "Any suggestions?"

"Plenty, but I'd like you to pick one out." He leaned back on the couch. He glanced over at the counter and saw his brother. "Damn. My break's up." He turned toward her again. "What about Friday?"

"What about it?"

"Don't be cheeky." He wagged a finger at her. "Are you busy?"

"For what?" She grinned.

"May all the saints preserve me," he muttered. "A date, Swan. An evening outing with just you and me."

"I…yes."

"Thank god, I was sure you'd make me bowl again."

She laughed as he got up to return to working. He reached out his hand and she took it. He pulled her up.

"Till Friday then." The glint in his eyes let her know he was up to something, but she just figured it out when he kissed her cheek, much longer and much more lingering than hers had been. As he drew back, he made sure his cheek brushed along hers. "You smell like sunshine, Swan."

"You're full of shit, Jones."

He grinned. "And your voice is all breathy," he teased. "Thanks for stopping by," he headed back to the counter and espresso machine, leaving Emma to ponder what the hell she'd gotten into.


	6. Testing Words

_a/n-might be awhile till the next update as i've been lazy as all get out with canceled school due to snow. hope this makes up for it. enjoy!-gp28_

_disclaimer: don't own anything, including movie, tv references, or poets. although i like to think of Keats as mine. :)_

**Testing Words**

She was so entirely grateful that Ruby was out for the evening when Killian showed up for their 'date.' She hadn't even told Ruby about it. Which was silly she knew, but admitting it to anyone; her first date that she chose to go on (set-ups by Ruby were another matter entirely and a terrible experience to boot), it made it more real. And for some reason, she wanted to avoid that.

She could psychoanalyze herself later.

He knocked and she opened the door, ready for whatever silly quip he had to say. But there was a pause as he looked her up and down.

"Really?"

"Please, lass. Let a man appreciate the infinite perfection of woman."

Dammit, her face heated. "You did not just say that."

His eyes met hers, the grin shining through the blue. "I take it back then. You look nice, Swan." He slid his hands into his back pockets and waited.

She was wearing jeans, tucked into her boots (it was easy and comfortable, okay?) and a green blouse with tan blazer. She hadn't slipped on her coat yet, but it was supposed to be freezing tonight.

"You look nice, too," she replied, begrudgingly. He was in typical attire as well, jeans, shirt and vest (she noticed that) and a black overcoat with a red scarf. Some of the tension in her lessened to see that he hadn't tried too hard (did boys ever?) which made her attempt not to try too hard acceptable.

Yeah, the psychoanalysis really needed to stop.

"Full of compliments," he teased. "Ready to go, then?"

She moved to grab her coat, sensing him walk in and look around their main room. "Come on in."

He laughed at her tone. "Such a charming hostess. Don't hide it, lass. You're glad to see me."

She wrapped a scarf around her neck before buttoning up her coat. "I'm still debating." He walked over, moving to fix the collar of her coat without so much as a word. She froze, watching him.

"Good to see you, too." he said softly as his gloved hands dropped from her neck. It was probably only a second or two, but whenever she met his eyes and he met hers, it seemed like eons went by.

"Where are you taking me?"

"That would ruin the surprise," he answered and gestured to her to lead the way out the door.

"I don't really do surprises." She locked the door behind him.

"Well, it's really traditional. Dinner and a movie." He lead her to his car and opened the passenger door.

"Really?" She was surprised. She'd expected something...less average. He shut the door once she was in, hurrying around to get in the car and start it. "How normal of you."

He laughed. "Don't speak too soon."

XXXXX

"Did you like it?"

They were walking next to each other and it had started snowing. Light and dusty flakes. She watched him as he looked up into the night sky, grinning at the precipitation like some kid on their first snow day.

"The movie? Yeah. I did." And the food. It had been dinner at the movie. A place where you ordered as you came in and ate while the movie played; some place in downtown that she'd never heard of.

He looked over at her, still grinning. "Ever seen a silent before?"

"Noooope." It had taken awhile to adjust to the title cards that explained what was going on, and the very overt acting of the time, but she liked it.

She might have also enjoyed watching him watch the film.

"Think I'm crazy yet?"

"Already thought that long ago."

He laughed and reached out to grab her gloved hand in his. She tensed, but didn't pull back. It wasn't like their skin was touching.

"Thank you." He straightened out and pulled her before lifting their hands so she went under his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing."

"Are you high?"

"No, love." He twirled her again and brought her close, his other hand finding her waist. "Just happy."

It wasn't a lie. There had been a few things he'd said that weren't total lies, but she couldn't fault him that. Not everything needed to be said completely. She really liked that he didn't lie to her. It made him...different.

"Your other hand goes on my shoulder."

"We're in the middle of the street, it's snowing...there's no music."

"There is no rule that dancing requires music." His hand on her waist tightened and she was lead around without realizing that she was dancing as well.

"Why are you happy?" she asked once they were close again. She recognized the breathiness in her voice, but dismissed it. It was cold.

"I've spent a good part of my college career worrying about things I can't control; grades, future, and...other things," his eyes darted from hers for that second. "I mean, I write poetry, love, it doesn't get much more angsty than that."

She laughed lightly, watching the snow land on his hair, the light making it glitter.

"And this...just you and I...it makes me happy."

Her smile dropped and he saw the fear enter her eyes.

"I mean nothing terrifying about that, I promise. This moment is all I'm talking about. Nothing else," he reassured her, hand moving from her waist to push her hair out of her face. "Don't run away from me."

"I'm not scared."

"Aye, you're a brave lass. Dancing with a man in the middle of a street. It would cause most to shudder."

She rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're beautiful." They'd stopped moving, still in each other's arms.

She braced herself for the kiss, because it had to be coming, especially with a line like that. It wasn't like she didn't want it. She could admit that. But it was too much. He saw too much in her. He knew too much.

He was too much.

Without warning, he dipped her and she gasped.

"What the hell?"

"What every man wants to hear when he pulls a move like that," he teased, watching her with her head thrown back. His eyes fell to her neck and he found himself mesmerized by the lines of her skin, the muscles. He drew her back up and she stumbled to find her footing. "I've got you." He steadied her.

Her cheeks were flushed from the dip and her breath a little heavier. They breathed in sync, puffs of air in the still, cold night.

"We should get home." She pulled back, out of his arms.

"Course."

XXXXX

"Do you want to come in and warm up a bit?"

Had she really just asked him that?

He didn't hide his shock. He'd planned to walk her to her door, as he'd done. Say goodnight, maybe sneak a kiss of some kind, but he could be patient. She'd been a mix of relaxed and tense the whole evening. He hoped that the relaxed state outweighed the other, but he couldn't be sure.

Whoever the guy was that had screwed her up so bad, he hoped he never met him. He hadn't gotten into a fight in a few semesters.

"I'd appreciate that." He slipped by her into the main room.

"I have tea and hot cocoa?" she offered, taking his coat from him. He watched as she hung it up on the hooks by the door, right next to hers.

"Of course you do," he said. She grinned and walked into their kitchenette (which was a stretch to even call it that). He wandered around the room, looking at the photos (mostly of Ruby and her), as well as older shots of Ruby (he assumed) as a kid. There were none of her.

Maybe it wasn't just the guy who'd messed her up.

"I'll have tea, if you don't mind."

"Sure." She flipped a switch on the electric kettle and turned to watch him scroll through their DVD collection.

"Eclectic."

"Most are Ruby's. She's the movie buff."

"Which are yours?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder back at her.

"Guess."

"Thelma and Louise."

"Naturally," she let herself smile.

"And, uh," he looked back at the collection. "Cool Hand Luke."

"A gift from Ruby, but yes."

"Tangled."

"How did you guess that one?"

"The hair," he walked back over as the kettle went off. She poured two mugs and plopped tea bags in them.

"That seems like a lucky guess."

"It is." He took his mug from her and followed her to the couch. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Oh. How does someone pick that?" She sipped her tea before setting it on the coffee table to steep. He did the same, turning to face her. "What's yours?"

"The Sting."

"No hesitation."

"None," he smiled at her. "Favorite show?"

"Firefly."

"Good choice."

"Yours?"

"That, I cannot answer." He stirred the tea bag in his tea for a second.

"Favorite poet?"

He looked up at her in surprise. "Depends on the day."

She smiled before tucking her legs underneath her. "Give me a few then."

"For depressed days, Coleridge is good. For soulful days, John Donne. For empty days, Dylan Thomas. And for romantic days, Keats. Sometime Byron but he was prat."

"Wow. I know, like two of those names."

"Don't say that. I'll start shoving books of verse at you and you'll run screaming." he took a drink of his tea.

"Running from poetry seems a little extreme."

He set down his mug. "Poetry is all emotions. Usually. Are you saying you don't run from emotions?"

And like that, her eyes lost their openness.

"Sorry," he whispered.

She swallowed. "Maybe you should go."

He dropped his head and sighed. "You do like to shut me out."

"Contrary to your belief, it's not all about you."

"No." He looked back up to see she was standing, putting a good amount of space between them. "No, this is about you." He took another swig of his tea and also stood, walking to the coat rack to grab his things.

She opened the door for him and waited, arms crossed, defenses up. He slipped on his coat, fixing up the collar before moving to her.

"I didn't mean to have the evening end like this," he said, keeping his voice soft.

"I'm sure I know exactly how you were hoping the evening would end." Her voice was sharp, cutting at him and he winced, but didn't back away, only moving closer.

"I would not presume anything, Swan. Do I want you? Yes." He invaded her personal space. "How can I not? You're stubborn, defensive and blunt. Would I ever expect anything from you? No. I can hope and you cannot fault me for hoping." He touched her face, his hands bare as he hadn't put on his gloves yet. She stiffened, but didn't jerk away. She was backed up against the door, but she could have pushed him away. She didn't. "Do not pretend you don't hope either."

"In your dreams."

"You know nothing of my dreams, lass." He trailed his finger from her ear and along her jaw to her lips. "You're even beautiful all pissed off."

"Good night, Jones," she bit out. But her breath hitched at his touch and they both knew he noticed it.

"Kiss me, love. And end the evening the way we both wanted," he knew there was a touch of pleading in his words, but he didn't mind.

He wasn't sure she would with her anger still so close to the surface, but he waited, his finger tracing her lips. He saw it in her eyes, the decision, but he wasn't at all prepared.

She batted his hand away before she grabbed him by the shirtfront and canceled out the space between them. He grunted at the impact, but recovered enough to rest his hands on her waist as she parted her lips against his.

Fuck, he was definitely not prepared.

She tasted like she smelled; sunshine and mountain streams. Her hand at his chest relaxed, moving up to his neck and with the other hand, into his hair. She gripped tight, angling his head the way she wanted, and he followed, helpless against her onslaught of lips, tongue and teeth. He pulled her closer, her hips aligning with his and she gasped at the contact, allowing him to control the kiss. He softened it, slowing the pace and savoring her mouth. She didn't deny him, following the rhythm, her tongue doing sinful things with his. He dragged his teeth against her lower lip, making her whimper before he pressed a chaste kiss at the corner of her lips.

He drew back first, pained at the loss of contact. He didn't get far, resting his forehead against hers, his fingers still curled into the hem of her blouse. Her hands in his hair trailed down to his neck, idly there as they both tried to catch their breath.

"Emma," he murmured and she raised her head. Her green eyes were a turbulent mess of emotions; fear predominant, but desire as well. "I..." he tried to speak in his normal voice, but he couldn't. To speak casually was to break the moment. He loosened his grip on her. "Good night."

She stared at him, swallowing. "Good night."

He took her hands in his, eyes unable to look anywhere else than at her and kissed the center of her palm, first her right hand then her left before letting them fall at her sides.

He stepped back, nodding his head before walking down the hall, hand running through his hair.

"Well."

Emma jerked her head to see Ruby over in the corner, leaning against the wall.

"I think I need a cold shower." Her roommate smirked before walking past Emma and poking her friend in the arm. "We are so talking about this."

Emma nodded, almost helplessly and quietly shut the door behind them.


	7. Searching Words

_a/n - okay, so i really struggled a bit with this one because I'm not sure I've really see Emma drunk, and this is Emma at 21, so I would think she's less good at keeping people out. Anyway, thank you for all the lovely responses. I will admit that the scene was probably inspired by my favorite club scene from niniadepapa's _The Lost Boys_ fic, which is amazing if you haven't read it. enjoy my dears -gp28_

**Searching Words**

"I'm not sure about this, mate," Killian followed Victor into the club. "I'm not usually inclined to crash a girls' night out."

Victor showed his ID to the doorman and gestured for Killian to do the same. "Ruby invited us. Said that your girl had had a shit day and they were blowing off steam."

Killian flashed his ID and continued behind his friend. "Bad day? What happened?"

"No details were given," Victor paused at the sight of bodies writhing under flashing lights and the heavy beat of music. "Drinks?"

Killian shrugged and watched the dancers as the two of them made their way to the bar. "Any idea where they are?"

Victor shook his head. "Beer and a-?"

"None for me."

"Why not?"

Killian leaned against the bar. "Who's driving?" he asked pointedly.

"Ahhh, that's why Ruby invited us. Well if you're taking the fall," Victor grinned and waved the bartender on for his drink.

Killian rolled his eyes and looked back at the dance floor. Minutes passed. "I see no sign of them, Vic."

"Patience. Ruby'll find us. She's got like animal senses on finding people." He sipped his beer. "So…"

Killian turned to look at him. "So?"

"You and Emma?"

"Are you really wanting to girl talk right now?"

Victor shrugged. "I dealt with the aftermath of who shall not be named, so I think I deserve to know if you're moving on or repeating past mistakes."

"Fuck off," Killian said with little heat.

"You came!" Ruby hurried up to them, embracing Victor clumsily. "Killian, good to see you!" Her eyes and smile were bright with alcohol.

"You too, lass," he received her equally as enthusiastic hug carefully. "Where's your-?"

"She's coming." Ruby leaned close. "Don't take too much advantage." She pulled back into Victor's arms to kiss him.

"What?" Killian asked, completely confused. He turned to ask the bartender for some water when he felt someone slide in next to him.

"Two shots. Tequila."

He turned to see her profile. Her face was flushed enough that he could make it out in the dim lighting, her hair was down, damp along her forehead, and that's when he let his eyes drop below her neck.

Bloody hell, that was a dress. It appeared black in the club lights, but he thought it might be some shade of purple. It was a second skin, hugging her body in a way that should have seemed indecent, but he'd already seen girls with far less on. It stopped mid thigh and even had a modest neckline, but it didn't matter. It left little to the imagination.

"Gonna stare all night or pay for my drinks?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her face.

His lust (no euphemistic way to put it) dulled at the expression in her eyes. They were dead, callous, and hard. "I'll pay for your drinks, love."

The endearment caused something in her eyes to shift and she smiled a little, the brightness coming from the effects of many drinks. "Why are you here?" She leaned in close.

"Was invited. Haven't seen you for awhile." After their rather eventful date, he'd stepped back. Her kiss, although something he couldn't shake from his thoughts for more than several minutes had been partially out of anger, anger that he'd touched on something she didn't want to discuss. She didn't like that he could read her as well as he did. So, despite his desire (practically need) to see her again, he'd let her alone. "You alright?"

She knocked back a shot of tequila with finesse that impressed him, offering the other shot to him. He shook his head and she shrugged, gulping that one down as well.

"I'm great, Jones." She reached out and touched the sleeve of his t-shirt. Drawing her gaze down, she slowly took him in. It made him want to fidget at her earnest appraisal. He'd only caught her twice checking him out before, she was pretty good at being subtle. When her eyes met his again, they were heated.

"Wanna dance? Or can you only waltz on snowy streets with no music?" The challenge was there, among the hardness and tequila in her eyes. "You did want to see me drunk."

"Aye, I did," He let her take his hand and pull him to the dance floor. He had wanted to see her less inhibited but there was something about her eyes that kept him from truly enjoying the moment.

She went right into the middle of the crowd, her hand firmly gripping his. When she stopped moving, he nearly stumbled into her. She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes darkening as the music washed over her. Taking the hand she held, she wrapped his arm around her middle, pressing her back against his front. Killian's eyes closed involuntarily, just for a moment at the feel of her. His eyes opened back as she started to move to the beat being pumped through the speakers. His grip around her tightened, his other hand finding her hip. He followed the pace that she set, attempting to recite and imagine all the old, decrepit poets that he knew in an effort to not overreact to how close she was.

It didn't work for very long, having her pressed so intimately to him. She eventually rested her head back on his chest, her face tilting toward his. He brushed his nose against hers, unable not to. She smiled at him, wrapping her arm around his neck, her fingers playing the hair at the nape of his neck. He spun her around, still in his arms so she faced him. Her eyes widened, but the smile came back, seductive and playful. With one hand splayed on her lower back and the other tight on her hip, he took over the dance. She didn't fight him, her body curling against his like it was made to fit. Her hands were back on his shoulders and in his hair. He slid his leg between hers, anchoring as he let her fall back with his hand on the back of her neck, sweeping her across and back up against him.

"Show off," she whispered into his ear, before nipping the lobe lightly.

"Emma, love," he growled back. "You're drunk."

"Aye," she teased his accent, drawing back to grin at him. "So?"

"So," he began, but she ran her hand along his chest, the thin material of the shirt doing little to numb her touch. "You're a temptress."

She pressed her lips to right where his t-shirt stopped at his neck, her tongue pushing past her lips to taste the saltiness of his skin. He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the floor. She laughed, and stumbled after him. He didn't stop for their coats, but waved at the bouncer as they hit the fresh air. She laughed again, walking past him and the people entering the club. She wrapped her arms around her, head back to look at the night sky.

"Why'd you bring me out here?"

"What happened?"

She turned to look at him as he leaned against the brick building. In her foggy mind, she wondered how even leaning looked sexy with him.

"What happened? When?" She moved toward him.

"Ruby said you had a bad day...what happened?"

She shook her head before coaxing in next to him, her side touching his. "No, don't do that," she snaked her arm around his middle, drawing him close so his body aligned with hers. "Kiss me."

His arms were stiff at his sides, hands balled up into fists. "Swan, something set you off. How much have you had tonight?" Even as the words came out of his mouth, he wondered what the hell he was doing. She was in his arms, willing in a way he had dreamed about. Never mind the fact that he was having dreams about her.

Her scent was doing things to him and he knew he should just take what she was offering, but something held him back. The fact that something hid deep in those green eyes.

She clasped her hands at his back, pressing her chest against his and she smirked at his intake of breath. "Enough," she answered his question. "Come on, Jones, kiss me," her eyelids lowered, fluttering in the coyest move he'd ever seen. Her hands broke apart and one slid down to his ass. He jumped and untucked his hands from his pockets, grabbing her arms and pulling them away from his assets.

"Bloody hell, love."

"I love when you call me that," she whispered before raising to her toes to kiss him. He didn't move for several seconds as she coaxed a response from him. She shivered from the cold and he rubbed her bare arms to warm her.

"Em," he began, but she took advantage of his open mouth and went back in, tongue tangling with his. He didn't hesitate this time. She hummed in approval as he moved her so her back was pressed to the wall, his body on hers so she could feel every line of him. His hands moved to her face, cradling it as he kissed her back, mouths open, tongues tasting. Her hands inched back to his ass, and he bit her lip when she squeezed. "We can't do this here," he said between kisses, his mouth trailing to her jawline and down her neck.

"Why not?" she replied, horribly breathless.

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. "Because. I want you to want me without alcohol." and he stepped back. She dropped her arms.

"Should I find someone else?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. His eyes dropped there before forcing their way back to her face.

"No." He took a step closer. "I want you to talk to me."

"I want to dance," she shot back, petulant. Stubborn through and through, Killian sighed at the metaphorical wall she presented.

He smiled at her pouting and leaned in to kiss the protruding lower lip. She opened to him, but he drew back. "Let's dance then."

She smiled triumphantly and took his hand in hers, dragging him back into the club.

XXXXX

Several hours, many dances that had Killian near breaking with the way she grinded against him, and several more shots for his friends later; Killian piled his three very drunk companions into his car.

"Killian," Ruby slurred from the backseat. "Drop Victor off with me, he forgot his key."

Killian snorted. "I bet he did."

"I did!" came the protest. The talking ceased as the two started kissing, noisily. Killian rolled his eyes and looked to his right to see Emma, resting her forehead against the window.

"You alright, Swan?"

"Mmhmm." She leaned back, resting her head on the headrest before rolling it to the side to look at him.

"You're not sick?"

"I have the constitution of...well someone very constitutiony." She smiled. He chuckled before pulling into the parking lot at their dorm. He got out, walking around to the backseat door, opening it and helping Ruby and Victor out. They were giggling as they headed for the main doors. Killian moved to Emma's door, opening it.

"Coming out?" He leaned against the top of it, looking down at her.

She shook her head.

He laughed and leaned down a bit. "What do you want to do, then?"

"Take me home." Her eyes took on that light that screamed of desire. "With you."

He debated it for a second, hoping he knew what he was doing with her. Swallowing hard, he nodded. "As you wish." And he shut the door carefully and walked to the other side, getting in the driver's seat, glancing up once to make sure Ruby and Victor had made it into the dormitory. He started the car and put it into reverse. She hummed softly to herself, blissful.

"Where do you live?" she asked just as softly.

"Off campus. Not far from Grounds." He kept his eyes on the road. Her hand reached over to rest on his thigh. "Careful."

"What?" He could hear the satisfaction in her voice.

"Don't want to get into an accident."

She laughed and patted his thigh before drawing back. She continued to hum as they continued on their way. When he pulled into a parking space in front of a small apartment complex, she looked up at it.

"By yourself?"

"No. My brother and my friend Leroy. We share three bedrooms and a bathroom." He exited the car and hurried to her side, opening the door and holding out his hand. She took it and grabbed her heels from the floor of the car, stepping onto the concrete with her bare feet. She swayed when she was on her own feet and he slid his arm around her waist. "Alright?"

"I'm not fragile."

"I know you're not, lass, but I still don't want you to be falling." He locked her door, shutting it and lead her to the stairs that led up to the second floor.

"Why is a British boy here at school?" she asked as they took the stairs. When they got to the top, she leaned into him, her lips brushing against his neck.

"Seemed like a good place to start over," he answered, voice affected, before opening the apartment door. "Liam's probably asleep and has an early shift, we need to be quiet."

"Sure," She walked in and looked around. Only a lamp was on, but it looked clean for a guys' apartment. She waited until he'd closed and locked up before launching herself at him. He caught her in his arms, dropping his keys. Her legs locked around his waist and her mouth covered his.

"Emma, Emma." He broke away, but she just took to kissing down his neck, nipping lightly with her teeth. "Fucking hell." He moved them out of the main room, down the hall, stopping once to kiss her back, having no self-control, pressing them both against the wall, friction that he couldn't seem to not create. She moaned in his ear and the sound woke him up a bit. He slung them both into his room, dropping her unceremoniously on his bed before moving away to take a moment and calm down.

"Killian," her voice was husky and he shuddered. "Come here."

"Swan, I want nothing more than to do just that, but I'm not going to."

She sat up on the bed. "Why not?"

"Because, love. We're not doing this tonight." He took another breath and looked over at her. "I'll get you something to sleep in."

"But I want you."

He paused on his way to his dresser. "Aye. I'm glad to hear it. You'll never tell me again, I'm sure." He opened up a drawer and yanked out a t-shirt. "Here." He tossed it on the bed.

She paused for a second before sliding off his bed and coming closer. "Can you do the back?" She turned, offering the zipper of her dress to him.

He cursed under his breath, but slid the metal tab down her back. His fingers might have brushed against her skin once or twice. She peeled off the dress, still right in front of him. She was wearing matching underwear, black and lacy and Killian was not sure he is going to survive this. She leaned over to slip on the t-shirt. It hit high on her hips and he swallowed again because his mouth was beginning to water.

"You can have the bed. I'll crash on the couch," he said hurriedly, watching her as she deftly undid her bra under the shirt and tossed it aside.

"We can share." She sauntered closer, fingers tapping his hips and moving up and under his shirt.

"Emma." He cupped her face in his hands. "Please. What happened today?"

Her ministrations froze against his skin and she stared at him a long while. He didn't move, counting her breaths as she mulled over his question. Her eyes struggled to build the wall back up, but they stayed open. "I'm not that drunk."

He leaned in, brushing his lips on hers lightly, comforting her. "But I want to know. Please tell me."

She pulled away, climbing onto his bed and tucking her legs under the shirt, wrapping her arms around them. He waited a second before joining her on the bed, close, but careful not to touch her. She sniffed once, staring into a place he couldn't follow. He waited.

She moved, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, his arm settling at her back almost immediately. "I saw him today." And her voice broke.


	8. Sober Words

_a/n-this is a long one. i blame tersaseda for that. many thanks to her for helping me out. thank you again for all the response to this story. it's been so much fun.-gp28_

Disclaimer: I don't own anything OUAT related. And similarities to any other art form is purely because I consume story at a colossal rate. :)

**Sober Words**

She woke with a pounding headache and a very warm pillow under her cheek. It took moments for the haziness from the night before to assimilate in her head into an understandable cause and effect. She lifted her head slowly and carefully, opening her eyes to see that her pillow was a t-shirt covered torso. He was in the same outfit from the night before.

Oh god, she'd slept on him.

She swallowed and let her eyes trail up to his face. His arm was still around her, holding her close. His eyes closed, those thick lashes spread against his skin; he looked younger, almost innocent. And if possible, more beautiful. His dark hair was a mess against the pillow and she itched to touch it now in her sober state of mind.

And because of that, she kept her hands to herself. Anxiety began to creep in her stomach.

She winced again at the pounding in her head. It made it hard for her to remember exactly what had happened the previous night. She looked around his room, as though the books lining the shelves would have the answer.

Drinking. Dancing. God, dancing with him. Kissing him. Wanting him. Almost having him.

But he'd stopped. Stopped both of them and asked her.

She sat up on the edge of the bed, eyes filling with tears of disgust. Fuck, fuck, she'd slipped. She'd shared. And she couldn't remember what she'd said, but she'd said something.

Fuck fuck fuck.

She slid off the bed, searching for her bra and dress. She hated to take off the t-shirt he lent because it smelled like him and was criminally soft. She ripped it off the moment those thoughts filtered through her brain, her heart speeding up the longer she stayed in his room. She banged her knee against a partially open drawer.

"Fuck." She couldn't help it hissing between her teeth at the pain. Her eyes shot to where he lay, hoping he hadn't heard. No movement. He slept like the dead apparently. She zipped up her dress and found her shoes before quietly exiting his room.

It was brighter in the main room, the blinds were all open even though the sun wasn't quite up.

"You're Emma."

She froze as her heart pounded even harder. In the kitchen doorway stood the main barista from Grounds. Killian's brother.

How did he know that? They hadn't met. Ever. She'd only ever spoken to Killian at the coffeehouse. So how did he know…?

Did he talk about her? To his brother?

"I am. You're his brother…?" Should she know his name?

"Liam." They almost had the same smile. His was just as alluring although it didn't twist her stomach like Killian's did. "Want some breakfast?"

"He said you had to get up early to work?" she began, feeling horribly awkward, standing there in a dress that she wouldn't wear unless at a club.

"I do, but I have time for breakfast, and I made coffee."

"I really should head out. Studies and all." Surely she could come up with better excuses than that. "Thank you anyway."

"Come, lass. You need a good breakfast for that studying. Besides, I like the company." Another reassuring smile and he tilted his head for her to follow him.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye."

Her stomach growled right then and the look of satisfaction on his face was very much like his brother, so Emma followed him because she couldn't argue now.

"Do you drink coffee or just hot chocolate?"

She rolled her eyes. "Is it something with you both that you remember drinks?"

"Occupational hazard." He placed some slices of bread in the toaster before pulling out a carton of eggs.

"I do drink coffee." She leaned against the counter, watching as he broke the eggs expertly. Conversation, Emma. You know how to do this. Did he wonder why she was in his brother's bedroom? Did he think…? "So, Killian says you guys moved here for a new start?" It was coming back, slowly, what happened last night.

"Aye. London is expensive and we'd both been through some shit," he grinned before pouring her a cup of coffee and opening the fridge. "Tons of creamers in there. Leroy likes his creamers. But yes, we needed a fresh start."

Emma grabbed a bottle of some flavored creamer and poured it in, catching the spoon he tossed her. She stirred her coffee, the scent helping her headache. She pressed two fingers to her temple to help the pain.

"Need aspirin?"

"Do I look that bad?"

He chuckled. "Not at all. But you do look worn. I assume there was liquor involved?" She nodded, noting that there was no judgement in his tone. "He didn't drink, did he? Driving you here?" His voice grew concerned and sharp.

"No." She sipped her coffee. "He didn't." At the time, she'd been bummed that he wasn't participating in their shot contests, but now she was really quite glad he'd been firm about that.

"Good. He knows better." He opened another cabinet after flipping the scrambled eggs and handed her a bottle of aspirin. "Eggs and toast alright?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He didn't imply or ask why she'd been in Killian's room. She couldn't figure out if it was because his brother had a lot of girls over spending the night or well, she wasn't sure what else. She couldn't just ask.

She knocked back the aspirin with the coffee. "So, are you in college?"

"Ah, no. I took over Grounds a few years ago. Killian is the college boy." He grabbed two plates and placed the eggs on them as the toast popped up, browned and hot. He buttered them as he continued. "I'll go back to school when he's out doing his travel writing thing."

"He's a good poet."

Liam offered her the plate and then a fork before leaning against the counter to eat. She did the same, setting her coffee down to take a bite of eggs.

"He has a way with words. Always has. Like our mum." Liam stared at her a long while, appraising her. "So tell me about you. He doesn't say much."

"He doesn't know much," she answered.

"Ahhh. A mystery girl." He took a bite of toast. "What do you study?"

"Criminal justice and psychology."

"Police or FBI?"

"I don't know. Something." She took another bite. "This is really good. Thank you."

Liam didn't say anything for a few moments. She didn't really notice, enjoying her food, but then she saw that he wasn't eating either. He looked like he was deep in thought. She took another bite of toast.

"He'd want to see you before you go," Liam said slowly as though he wanted her to hear every word.

Emma paused in her chewing to see him looking at her, all knowing. God, was it a Jones brother thing?

"Oh."

"But I do like making breakfast for more than one." Liam finished up his food. "I best be going. Could you make sure he gets up fairly soon? His shift is at ten." He smiled again and patted her arm as though they'd been friends for awhile. He grabbed his coat from the rack near the door and left.

Emma stood there, mildly miffed at the elder Jones' ability to distract her from her plan of escape and amused that he did so well at it. The food was helping her headache and she didn't feel nauseous which was a win after the amount of alcohol she'd ingested the night before. But she'd been there too long already. She cleaned her plate, placing it in the sink along with her empty mug. Toeing on her heels, she went to look for her purse. It was on the coffee table and she swung it on. She started toward the door, but she could hear her phone buzz inside. and she pulled it out see that Ruby had texted her once, Mary Margaret had texted five times and called twice and David had texted eleven times and called six times. Which made her laugh.

"What's so funny?"

She spun around, almost losing her balance to see him coming out of his room, running a hand through his hair, his jeans hanging low on his hips, t-shirt all wrinkled and it shouldn't be attractive but it was.

"Oh. Um, your brother just left."

"Which is why the coffee is on and I smell eggs," Killian smiled sleepily before stumbling over to the kitchen to pour himself a cup. "Want some?"

"I had a cup," it came out sharper than she meant it and she ran a hand through her hair, catching a few tangles along the way. She jammed her phone back into her purse. "I should go."

He came back around with a mug of coffee. "Really? I was thinking Saturday morning cartoons." His eyes twinkled.

She didn't move as he came around the sofa to sit, placing his mug on the coffee table. "I have lots to do."

"Vague excuse. Can't sit down for a few minutes?"

She sat, on the edge of the cushion with several feet separating them. He watched her.

"How much do you remember?"

She blushed and he let out a small laugh.

"Well that's good." He reached out to touch her hand that was aimlessly picking at the cushion. "I don't know who he is, but I…" He paused, as though steeling himself. "I've had my heart broken as well. And I'm really glad she's not around to remind me of that."

She let out a long breath, looking at his hand on hers. His hands weren't soft or smooth, but callused which were not the hands of poet, but someone who worked. Despite that roughness or perhaps because of it, his hand felt nice on hers. They'd felt nice on her body as well.

The problem after a night of drinking was the errant memories that popped up without warning. She needed to get the fuck out of there.

But she needed to know. How much damage control was necessary. "How much did I tell you?" she tried to sound normal, but she could hear the fear in his voice.

"Just that you saw him," his voice was barely a whisper, hints of concern and empathy coloring it.

She laughed mirthlessly. "That's it? God." She hadn't told him who he was, or how he looked at her like she was nothing to him. How she was just another person, there and gone, easily forgotten. "So...who broke your heart?" She was desperate to get the conversation off herself.

His eyebrows rose, the warmth in those blue eyes fading so fast and she knew it. God, could she read him so well already to know exactly what her question would do?

That terrified her.

"Oh. I see." His tone was flat, and he pulled back his hand. "I can tell you that kind of stuff, but you won't tell me more? I'm not sure that's fair, love." The 'love' was cutting, but the way his tongue touched the corner of his lips as he stared her down was heated.

It should make her relieved, right? That he shut down, just like that. But she didn't. She felt sad as she stood, and then angry for feeling sad.

"Thanks for whatever. I'll see ya." She moved and he grabbed her wrist. "I have taken self-defense classes." Punching him could be fun.

"I'll bet you have, love and you can use them on me if you really think it's deserved, but you don't have your car." He moved closer, eyes darkening. "How are you going to get back?"

"I'll call David or someone." She couldn't help but hate that he still smelled good, despite sleeping in his clothes.

He reached out to brush her hair back. "I'll drive you."

She resisted grabbing him by the wrist. "No thank you." Her green eyes glinted with defiance.

He ran his thumb along her cheek. "I really don't like that we're always parting with bad feelings." He moved in and kissed her cheek. "We don't have to talk about him or anything right now. We can talk about how absolutely sinful you looked last night and how I'm still not sure how I managed not to be at your mercy completely."

Words. The way he said things. Her anger could so easily morph to something else around him. She shuddered, letting his words sweep over her, reminding her that he hadn't taken what she offered last night.

No guy had ever done that.

Taking a deep breath, she looked him in the eyes. "I didn't say thank you for that." She met his eyes. "Thank you." And she kissed him, tempted by his proximity.

He kissed her back, softly and slowly, hands sliding to her hair as she wrapped her arms around his middle. He drew back, leaving one chaste kiss on her lips. "Give me a second and I'll drive you back?"

She nodded, kissing him again, relishing how good he tasted in her completely sober state. "Killian."

"Hmm?" He rubbed his nose along hers.

"What are we doing?" Maybe he could define what the hell was going on with them.

"I'm taking you home. And then I'm going to call you sometime to ask you out again. And then we'll go out and probably kiss some more, and then, I'll call again…" he trailed off and kissed her nose. "If that's okay with you?"

The way he said it...sounded so normal. And unthreatening. She stared at him for a long time, letting her brain take in his intentions.

"You're asking me."

"Of course I am." His eyes dropped to her lips then back to her eyes. "It's your choice."

She snorted. "Really? I have a choice?" Guys didn't give the girl the power. The girl had to take it.

"You do." He said firmly. "It's just my prerogative to make it really hard to say no to me." He grinned before letting go of her to grab his shoes and wallet.

XXXXX

When Emma got back to her dormitory, he walked her to her door. She turned to lean against the door, fishing her keys out of her purse.

"So…"

"So," he answered before leaning in to kiss her. "Have good day, study hard, and think of me."

"Oh really?" she shot back, smiling when his lips drifted to her jaw. "That's pretty self-serving."

"I'll be thinking of you," he murmured back, raising his head to meet her gaze.

"You will?"

"Yes." He tasted her lips, savoring them and her. "More than I should probably."

"Killian," she began, but the door opened behind her and he grabbed her by the shoulders so she wouldn't fall.

"Emma," Mary Margaret stood there in all her petite glory. "You are okay." She glanced at Killian, suspicion coloring her delicate features.

"Mary Margaret," he gave a little bow. "She's had breakfast and coffee. I leave her in your capable hands." He looked back at Emma who was blushing. "I'll call you."

She nodded. "Okay. Um. Thank you for the ride back and...everything else."

"You're welcome." He stepped back and then thought better of it, leaned in to kiss her again. "Till next time." And with a quick wave to Mary Margaret, he headed back to his car.

Emma slid into her dorm, anxious to take off her heels and shower. "Why are you here? At…" She looked over at the clock. "9:15 on a Saturday morning?"

"You didn't answer your phone."

Emma sighed and looked to see that her friend had shut the door and moved to the kitchen to start a kettle of hot water. "Sorry."

"And normally it wouldn't matter, but Ruby said that you ran into...him yesterday." She opened the cabinets and pulled out a box of tea bags. "David and I were worried."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, feeling awful. "Ruby and I went out and…" she turned back to the door as though to explain Killian. "I'm sorry."

"So I came over to find Ruby completely hungover, but she and Victor went to the diner for breakfast. But she wasn't sure where you were."

Emma winced. "I didn't tell her."

"You went home with Killian?"

"Yeah." Emma fidgeted. "But nothing happened. If you were worried."

"About that? No." She came around to the main room. "I just worry about you in regards to anything to do with...Neal."

Emma couldn't blame her. When things had gone south, Ruby was good for distracting her, but it was Mary Margaret that she went to for a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. It had scared her, how much she'd shared with David's girlfriend, the vulnerability of it chilling her, but Mary Margaret had only ever been supportive and kind.

"Can I take a shower before we do this?" Emma asked, smiling to soften her request.

Mary Margaret smiled back, relieved. "Of course. I'll make tea."

A half hour later, Emma was in her yoga pants and t-shirt, curling up next to Mary Margaret on the sofa as the other girl handed her a mug of hot tea. Mary Margaret waited for Emma to begin.

"He wasn't in his building. I avoid that building. He was in the Admin office. I was there about my financial aid and he was coming out of the some conference room I think. He smiled at me, like nothing." Emma took a deep breath. "Said 'hey how's it going?' and I didn't say anything. I couldn't. It just hurt to see him."

Mary Margaret nodded, smoothing Emma's hair comfortingly. Emma moved so her head could rest on the other's shoulder.

"And then, the best part was that there was a girl. Probably a freshman, waiting for him. All...Professor Cassidy, I need to speak with you…" Another deep breath. "She was blonde too. Big eyes, adoringly looking at him. The way he talked to her. I just knew she was another one." She swallowed. "And I didn't say anything. I didn't even try. I can punch a guy so easily, but I can't tell off the one guy who ripped a hole in my chest." Her eyes filled as Mary Margaret wrapper her arm around her, pulling her close and squeezing her shoulder. Emma took another sip of tea.

"You will. Someday you will tell him exactly what he needs to hear," Mary Margaret began. "I'm so sorry. Is that why you went out last night?"

"Yeah, that was Ruby's version of therapy."

Mary Margaret laughed. "Did it work?"

"My head is still attached and I haven't thrown up, so probably." They sat in companionable silence for awhile, each drinking tea and enjoying the silence. "Where's David?"

"Group project." Another pause. "So...Killian?" Emma didn't have to see her face to know the smile on her friend's face.

"I'm not sure I even know what to say about that."

"You like him."

"I'm. I'm attracted him. That much is true. Sometimes I want to punch his stupid face."

"His attractive face?"

"That'd be the one." They both laughed as Emma straightened up so she could look at Mary Margaret. "I threw myself at him." She blushed still. "I mean, I was really drunk and was in that kind of mood, but when I saw him, any other guy I'd been checking out, just faded." She took a huge swallow of tea.

"I think you like him."

Emma closed her eyes, frustrated. "Maybe."

"It's okay. To like a guy."

"He didn't...we didn't…" Emma shook her head. "He stopped us. Who does that?"

Mary Margaret didn't answer, just waited.

"We danced. And he kept asking what was wrong. Like he wanted to know." Emma set down her tea, her hands waving in aimless frustration.

"Maybe he does."

"Why?" Emma asked helplessly. "Why would he want to know?"

The pleading in her friend's eyes hurt Mary Margaret's heart. "I can't speak for him, Emma, but maybe it's because he cares." If he didn't, Mary Margaret would do some serious damage to his pretty face.

Emma looked away, chewing on her lower lip in thought. "He wants to go out again. Like dating. Like normal people."

"Is that bad?" Mary Margaret asked softly, not offering too much. It was for Emma to decide.

Emma reached out to take her friend's hand. "It shouldn't be, but I can't help feeling wary."

Mary Margaret regarded her. "You don't have to figure it all out now. You can just enjoy it."

She snorted. "I'm not sure I'm capable of that."

"If it matters, David doesn't hate him."

Emma laughed. "And you?"

"I think he's charming and very good-looking. But he doesn't seem insincere."

"He's not." Emma took another breath. "Okay. Enough about that. What about you? What has happened in the last 48 hours since I've seen you?"

"Me? That's not evasive at all." Mary Margaret teased. "Can we talk about how David brought me flowers yesterday, for no reason at all?"

Emma smiled at her friend's beaming face. "You got the best one, you know that?"

"I do."


	9. Heated Words

_a/n-a million hugs to you all for all the loveliness in response to the last chapter. I think you'll like this one. I sure did. :)-gp28_

_disclaimer: I don't own Killian or Emma, OUAT property. more notes at the end_

**Heated Words**

_Did you seriously text me a video of penguins?_

Killian chuckled, looking up before running into someone as he made his way to class. He quickly texted back.

**I did.**

He entered the classroom, nodding at his professor before finding a seat and sliding in. He set his bag on the table, leaning back in the chair.

_Seems a bit random._

**Everyone likes penguins.**

_Still random._

**I would have sent a video of swans, but for some reason, all those out there were of swans attacking. I didn't want to give you ideas. You've already threatened my person.**

_You're lucky it was just threats._

He grinned before seeing the time.

**Best go. Prof. would have my head if I had my phone out.**

_Which Prof?_

**My advisor for History. Cassidy.**

He waited for a response, but class was starting, so he slipped the phone in his bag and set up his laptop to take notes.

XXXXX

Emma dropped her phone, watching it fall absently onto the dead grass that winter had brought. She pressed her hand to her chest, pushing hard as she tried to breathe.

His professor, his advisor was Neal.

What were the chances in a university that large? And why had she asked? Why did she have to know?

She bent down to retrieve her phone, her heart still pounding and her breathing still erratic. The anxiety from just seeing his name was too much. She hurried back to her dorm.

Crashing onto her bed, Emma focused on her breathing.

In and out, slowly and steadily.

In and out.

It wasn't a big deal.

It wasn't a big deal.

She rolled over onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

_"So…" he walked in confidently, slinging his bag onto the armchair. "You must be…" he trailed off when he saw her. "Miss Swan."_

_She swallowed, gripping the stack of papers she held. He was really attractive with puppy brown eyes and messy brown hair, hints of grey at the temples. He smiled at her and it hit her right in the stomach._

_"Emma. Emma Swan."_

_"Welcome, then. Emma Swan." He held out of his hand and she shook it as firmly as she could, but she noticed that he didn't immediately let go. "I'm Professor Cassidy, but you can call me Neal for the time being."_

_She nodded, still much more nervous than what a meeting with her summer class professor should entail._

_"Impressive that you're taking classes before you even start your freshman year," he began, looking through her file. She sat on the other chair, fingers tapping her papers nervously._

_"When the government is willing to pay, might as well use it."_

_He grinned up at her. "Not a bad idea. What's your major?"_

_"Criminal justice. I think. But I like history and i figured I could get some gen eds out of the way."_

_"It's self-service, but the history department is pretty good here." He winked at her and closed the manilla folder. "Any questions?"_

_"No. I'm just glad to meet you," she swallowed again. "College is a little intimidating." She stood as he did. "Thank you."_

_He regarded her for a long moment. "It helps to have friends if things get too much." He gestured for her to follow him and she did, wondering if he was the friend he referenced._

God, he'd been charming and helpful. Always checking in with her after class to make sure she was settling in okay. A touch to the shoulder there. A brush of hands there. He complimented her essay writing and it had felt good to receive that type of validation. That she was capable of doing this.

The sex was just bonus. Being with a 'real' man, in an adult relationship.

How naive she'd been. To think that he was going to be the one. The one who made her feel truly whole.

Then it all crashed down.

Her phone buzzed again and she didn't move to check it. She just curled up, remembering her breathing and waited for the pain to fade.

XXXXX

**Poetry reading tomorrow night. ;)**

Emma sighed at the message, smile touching her lips. He was nothing if not persistent. She hadn't responded to any of his texts the afternoon after his reveal. She'd needed some time. Time to breathe and time to decide...something.

She wasn't about to tell him.

_Still don't have a poem._

The chances of her knowing Neal ever coming up between Killian and him was highly unlikely.

**I know this guy who reads poetry...complete nerd. He might be able to help.**

She laughed, looking around the library to make sure no one was close to hear her not library-quiet laugh.

Could she make herself forget that Killian had a connection with him?

_Really? I don't hang out much with nerds._

**This one is really ridiculous. Glasses. Can't talk to girls. Horrible, greasy hair. Total stereotype.**

She went to answer, but her phone buzzed again.

**I like your hair like that.**

Her hand immediately went up to the side french braid she wore. It had been perfect that morning, but as the day carried on, strands had fallen into her eyes and around her face. It wasn't really her favorite thing.

Wait, how did he?

She turned to see him leaning on the bookshelf down the aisle from her little table that she'd commandeered for the afternoon. He smirked at her before slipping his cell phone in his back pocket. He strolled over to where she sat, sitting on the edge of her table, right on her textbook.

"Are you stalking me? Again?" she asked, trying to hide her flustered state.

"I told you this was where I studied, love. And here you are. Think it might be reversed and you're stalking me."

"Half the school studies here," she replied, pulling the book out from under him. "Not very good evidence, Jones."

""How did you know I was here? At the library?"

"Was eating lunch with Victor and Ruby stopped by. She told me you were here studying." He paused. "I believe you're avoiding me."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "And I believe that your ego is so big that it can't fathom that I might just be busy." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well played, Swan." He bent down to cup her under her chin, coaxing her face up. "I'm going to kiss you." It should bother her, right? That he went from being absurdly arrogant and annoying, to this guy: heated eyes, amused smile, and the ability to make her forget everything.

"Why tell me?" she asked, mouth dry.

"Just in case you want me not to," he answered easily before pressing his lips to hers. She leaned into it, but he kept it short and pulled back to slide off her table. "So, a poem for my lady?"

She fluttered her eyes open, still thinking of his kiss. "Um...no, we don't need to do that."

He cocked his head to the side. "Are you not going to carry out your side of the bet?"

"Well, I have kissed you, that's almost like it's null and void." She leaned back in her chair, smirking right back.

He sighed, pressing his hand to his heart dramatically. "So cruel. To think that you only kissed me to get out of a relatively harmless bet." He offered his hand to her. She eyed it, then him, then took his hand. He pulled her up quickly, causing her to stumble into him.

"What are you-?" She started, but he quickly spun her around so her back was against the bookshelves. She was further cut off from speaking by his lips. Placing his hands on the shelf next to her head, he dove in further, taking their innocent kiss from earlier and coloring it all kinds of well over PG-13. After a few heady seconds of just being tasted and tasting, Emma shoved him off of her. "We're in the library, with people," she hissed at him, although her breathy voice didn't really intimidate.

He looked dazed for a second before nodding and taking her hand to pull her further down the aisle of books. They turned a corner and another, through the maze of the university's library until they were in area without tables. She looked around.

"What section is this?"

"Poetry," he replied, his mouth next to her ear. She felt his lips on her neck as he eased her toward the shelf. His hand stole around her waist to rest on her stomach and his chest pressed against her back. Her eyes closed when his tongue trailed her sensitive skin. He turned her around, hands back on the shelves next to her head. "Byron, Shelley, Poe, Whitman, Dickinson, Blake, Lermontov…" he trailed off, sucking on her skin, leaving a mark. "All of them right at your fingertips."

Emma moaned, her fingers finding his belt loops and tugging him closer. "I can't choose a poet just on their name." She brought his mouth to hers, cutting off whatever he'd planned on saying. His hips pressed against hers as her hands snaked into his hair, her tongue tangling with his, desperate to taste every part of him. It was like a fever, heat rushing over her.

"I'll make suggestions," he said, breaking their kiss, going back to her neck. "Give me a word."

"Seriously?" she gasped when his hands left the shelves and moved to her sides, slipping under her shirt. He pinched her slightly, smiling. "Fine, um...fever." She was thinking about it.

"Fever." He raised his head, looking at her, hands tracing shapes along her skin. She tried to get her breath back. "My love is like a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease," He ended it with another kiss, tugging on her bottom lip. "Shakespeare, but kinda dark, so not really appropriate." He grinned at her.

"You're an idiot," she said before hauling him back to her, mouth attacking his. He lifted her, so her legs could wrap around his waist, his hands sliding to her ass to hold her. He met her kiss for kiss, growling when her legs tightened around him. "I want another."

"Poem?" he murmured. "Greedy woman."

"You started it."

"Fine. E.E. Cummings." He pressed his lips together. "'may i feel said he. i'll squeal said she.'" He used the bookshelf to take some of her weight, moving one of his hands around to her stomach and up slowly as he continued. "'just once said he. it's fun said she.'" He leaned in, nipping twice at her collarbone. "'may i touch said he.'" His hand stopped at the underwire of her bra. "how much said she." His eyes, heated and bright, pierced hers. "'a lot said he.'" He took a breath. "'why not said she.'"

"That's a poem?" she asked. He nodded, cheeks flushed pink, lips matching in color. She bent her head down, lips molding to his, tongue teasing his. She placed her hand over her shirt and his hand, guiding it up. His hand was warm, gentle and she let out a whimper that he swallowed in his kiss.

There was a loud thump several aisles over and they both stilled. He carefully let her down, so her feet touched the floor. His hand dragged down her waist and out from under her shirt. She swayed on her feet and he gripped her shoulders to keep her steady. Their breathing was labored but in sync.

"I need a moment," she whispered.

"Same." He pulled her close so her head rested on his chest. "I could kiss you for days, love." his voice was low and husky, almost slurring the words. Had she made him drunk? He pressed his lips on top of her head.

Emma lifted her head to look at him. "So, you just stopped by to…?"

He grinned at her repressed smile. "See you. Have a little fun, although as always, you exceed my expectations." He took a step back from her, apparently more under control.

"I don't have any idea what to say to that."

He ducked his head, grinning widely at her still. "You could tell me how much you like my kisses." His face sobered, the hint of desire still in his eyes. "Or I could continue to wax poetic about your eyes, your hair, your skin, and your lips." He swallowed, looking less gleeful and more wrecked. "Emma…"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by someone coming down their aisle. He moved further away, grabbing a book above her head. The person passed and Emma glanced at the book he'd grabbed.

"Who's Carl Sandburg?"

"A poet," Killian answered, meeting her thoughtful gaze, but whatever he'd been about to say, that expression was gone. "You can't use Shel Silverstein though. Or Dr. Seuss."

She pouted. "I always understood Dr. Seuss." They stared at each other for minutes and she wondered if she might grab him this time and shove him up against a bookshelf. His hair was a mess, those eyes just glowed and she wanted him with a fierceness she didn't know she possessed.

"Fuck," he snapped out of it first. "I have class." He looked at his watch. "In five minutes."

"Oh."

He started down the aisle then turned right back around, grabbing her none too gently and kissing her hard. "Find a poem or two, love. I expect to see you tomorrow night." He winked and hurried down the aisle and out of her sight.

Emma leaned back against the bookshelf, her heart still pounding and her body still trembling.

XXXXX

poetry notes-

The fever sonnet is "Sonnet CXLVII" and goes like this.

_My love is as a fever longing still,_  
_For that which longer nurseth the disease;_  
_Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,_  
_The uncertain sickly appetite to please._  
_My reason, the physician to my love, _  
_Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,_  
_Hath left me, and I desperate now approve_  
_Desire is death, which physic did except._  
_Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,_  
_And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;_  
_My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,_  
_At random from the truth vainly expressed;_  
_For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,_  
_Who art as black as hell, as dark as night._

The other is ee cummings' "may i feel said he' and if you want to read that, you go find it because it's not exactly for all ages. :)


	10. Lyrical Words

a/n-this is too much fun to write. i just am inordinately inspired by killian jones. so yes. thank you for the likes, favorites, follows, reviews and please don't stop because i live for them. -gp28

disclaimer - the poem is not mine (obviously. i ain't that skilled) and OUAT belongs to the powers that be.

**Lyrical Words**

Killian collapsed in his chair right as the professor started to speak. His body thrummed still and forced his eyes on his professor, a man of forty easily.

The kid next to him huffed and it triggered the echo of Emma's breathing in his mind and Killian cursed under his breath.

"We're going to try a different style of writing today. Oftentimes, people of note die and your newspaper, magazine, station will want to honor them. For this assignment, you can choose anyone, alive or dead, famous or not, but I suggest you look up other in memoriams to model after." There was a pause. "Get started. I'll come round to check on you."

Killian opened his laptop, brain still not quite on work. How could it be? His mind and body, truth be told, were still fifteen minutes ago with Emma, against a bookshelf. How her eyes had gone all glazed over with want and fuck, he needed a cold shower.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, forcing his thoughts on dead people (because that had to cool the fire a bit).

He clicked on the internet browser and typed in memoriams. Actors, politicians, do-gooders popped up and he grimaced, uninterested. It was why he hated journalism was the fact that he couldn't write what he wanted to write. He had to write what he was assigned.

Who could he really write a solid 'in memoriam' for? Someone he actually cared about-

Images of Emma faded so fast, replaced by the kindness of a smile he'd never seen its equal. Of blue eyes, and light laughter, and soft words, his mind moved from the passionate present to the aching past.

Twenty minutes later, his professor stood behind him, looking over his words.

Taken far too early, Brenna Jones, died five years ago. Cancer was the assailant, the kind that does not give anyone the chance to say goodbye. She is survived by her husband of twenty-five years, Sullivan Jones, and their two sons; Liam and Killian.

'Survived' is a ridiculous word, because suffering the death of a loved one does not feel like survival. It feels like-

"Don't you think you're getting a bit off-topic?" his professor said. "This isn't an obit, or diary. This is a 'in memoriam' and you are supposed to focus on the accomplishments of the deceased." And he moved on.

Killian turned, flipped off his retreating back and shut his laptop. He shoved it in his bag and left the classroom, uncaring as to how much it probably resembled a child's tantrum. He stumbled out of the building, uncaring of where he was going or how he got there.

He nearly ran into it. The tree in the quad that Emma had mentioned weeks ago. It was still cold outside and everyone else was hurrying to inside heat, but he just stopped and let himself fall back onto the trunk and slid down until he was seated. He took a few deep breaths.

_You're my Killian. You'll always be my baby._

He leaned his head back against the wood and breathed his way through it.

It was stupid and he knew it. The moment he'd started writing about his mother, he knew it wouldn't work out well. His journalism classes were not the place to deal with his mother, his father and that whole sordid mess. But he couldn't help it. He'd been thinking about his mum. A lot lately.

Mostly he wondered what she would have thought of Emma.

He wiped his eyes and chuckled self-deprecatingly. He was so close to falling off the cliff with her and he knew it. Saw the signposts that spoke to the pain and heartbreak ahead and he whipped by them, unable to slow down because it wasn't in his nature. She intrigued him, whatever her story was and how she handled it with a head held high and green eyes that scream 'don't touch.' She made him smile so much and laugh and write poetry, heaping amounts of cliched-ridden twee phrases about infatuation and golden tresses, and he knew it.

Perhaps the ending would be the same, but he was already too deep to pull out. And that was very Killian of him.

But he still smiled when he thought of her and his mom, his logic be damned.

XXXXX

It was packed that night. Killian was on espresso bar and was making drinks so quickly, he was pretty sure he could outdo a Starbucks barista during their rush. He laughed at his own thoughts before handing out two more drinks. The girls both gave him secret smiles to which he just grinned back, uninterested. They looked like freshmen and even almost halfway through the year, freshmen weren't quite out of high school mindset yet.

He'd always gone for slightly more mature women.

He kept an eye out for Emma, wondering if she'd show up. He knew that she wasn't keen on the whole thing, but he doubted she'd welch on her side of the bet. She wasn't the type.

Over the speakers, the poems had already started and hearing some of those great words made his brain start turning and his fingers itch.

Hell, he hated when he wanted to write and couldn't because of work.

"Emma Swan."

His head shot up from watching the milk froth. He leaned over so he could look around the espresso machine to see her walking up onto the stage. How had he missed her coming in? His radar on her was entirely too good in truth. He quickly finished the drink, spilling some of the hot milk on his hand, cursing heatedly, but handing off the drink, and moving to the corner so he could watch her.

She cleared her throat into the mic, jumping a bit at the carried sound. She hadn't looked up yet. She unfolded a piece of paper.

"For a bet." She took another deep breath. "Daybreak by Stephen Spender."

Unknown completely to him.

"At dawn she lay with her profile at that angle Which, when she sleeps, seems the carved face of an angel." She smiled a little as though seeing it. "Her hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows And plays, against the white cloud of the pillows." She sighed. "Then, in a flush of rose, she woke, and her eyes that opened Swam in blue," she paused there and looked up to the back of the room, where he stood. "through her rose flesh that dawned. From her dew of lips, the drop of one word Fell like the first of fountains: murmured 'Darling', upon my ears the song of the first bird." She tucked her hair behind one ear and it was then that he noticed the paper she held shook just slightly. "'My dream becomes my dream,' she said, 'come true. I waken from you to my dream of you.' Oh," she breathed the sound and Killian swallowed, parts of him waking up. "my own wakened dream then dared assume The audacity of her sleep. Our dreams Poured into each other's arms," She took a breath. "like streams."

The snapping started only after a few seconds of silence and she smiled, blushing before nodding her head and stepping off the stage to allow the next reader their chance. She folded up the paper and slipped into her back pocket before walking toward the back, smiling at Liam who was at the register.

"Hot cocoa with cinnamon. Or can I say just 'the usual' now?" she asked him, a smile on her lips, a little forced.

"The usual will work," Liam grinned at her. "Good job by the way. I can't imagine that was easy to do."

"Rather slay a dragon, honestly," she replied easily and paid before sliding down the bar to the end where he stood behind the espresso bar. Her eyes lingered on his flushed cheeks. "So...bet fulfilled?"

He didn't look at her as he frothed the milk. She watched his movements as he poured the milk, stirring in the cocoa powder. There was a grace about him that she was just beginning to notice. At least here, with coffee. And how he touched her.

She slipped off her blazer, warmer all of a sudden.

She swallowed. "Killian?" Her heart was pounding and she really needed to hear what he thought. Which should have worried her. And it did.

He set down the mug with hot cocoa and sprinkled some cinnamon on top before looking up and meeting her gaze. His eyes were so dilated, she could barely see the blue.

"I liked it," his voice was rough. "Bet fulfilled." He reached out to touch her hand that was encircling the mug of cocoa. His fingers stroked along the back of her hand. "I hope you know how much I'm resisting climbing over the counter and kissing you senseless."

She swallowed. "Really?" She watched their hands as hers moved to touch his. "It was just a poem." Their touches were fleeting, but Emma could feel the electricity fly up her spine.

"You know better than that." He drew back reluctantly. "Enjoy your hot chocolate." He dared to look at her again. "Where's the rest of your crew?"

"I didn't tell them I was doing this. In case I was awful." She stared at him a long time even as Liam called out another drink. He gripped the knob for the steamer, staring right back. His eyes kept drifting to her mouth and she licked her lips, unsure if it was in reaction to that look or not. His jaw muscle tensed. "I'll let you get back to it." She stepped back and moved to find a table and sit. Her legs were shaky, whether from being on stage or the look in Killian's eyes, she had no clue. She sipped her hot chocolate, relaxing into the warmth and familiarity. She started to listen to the other poets and forced herself not to turn to watch him work.

Adrenaline still hummed beneath her skin. She'd read a poem, on stage, in front of people. Something she could have never seen herself doing ever. And it was exhilarating, heady and slightly like a good buzz. And that poem had been so fun to read, the pretty words.

She could understand why Killian enjoyed it so much.

It was about five poems, and her entire mug of cocoa before she felt his presence behind her.

"Fancy some air, lass?"

She turned to look up at him. "Is that code?"

He grinned. "It's whatever you want it to be." He offered his hand. She took it and slipped by him, leading them both out of the coffeehouse. She continued down the street just a ways from the front doors and the street lamp illumination. "Emma, love-" This time, she pushed him back against the wall and covered his mouth with hers. He groaned into her mouth and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She broke from his lips to kiss his adam's apple, licking and sucking the skin of his neck. "Bloody hell, Emma, I just wanted-" he took another breath, his hand sliding to her ass to bring her closer. "To tell you that you were brilliant."

She lifted her head. "Was I?" She moved so her hands rested on his chest. "You're entirely too easy, Jones."

He moved his hands to frame her face. "I am. With you." He leaned in to kiss her softly. "How long are you sticking around tonight?"

She gazed at him as his fingers moved to trace her eyebrows and cheekbones to her jaw. "I have an eight o'clock class tomorrow morning." She made a face.

He dragged his hands down her neck to her collarbone, idly tracing the length. "I work until eleven." He sighed and kissed her again, long and languid in tone and motion. "Go out with me this weekend. I don't work Saturday and I want to spend it with you."

She nodded. "I work till one."

He dropped his head to taste her, hand coming around to cup the back of her neck. "I'll be properly cheesy and get together a picnic."

"It's freezing though."

"Good point," he punctuated it with a kiss. She wriggled closer to him and he hissed. "Fuck. Minx." He glared at her and she smiled. "I'll think of something and pick you up at your dorm?"

"Okay," she pulled his head down and molded her lips to his, and nipping at his lower lip. "How long is your break?"

"Not long enough," he breathed. She looked triumphant. "I mean it, love, you were brilliant tonight on that stage."

Her smile wavered and her face flushed. "Stop it."

"No. I don't think you hear it quite enough. You are brilliant." He ducked his head so they were eye-level. "And gorgeous, and funny."

She forced herself not to look away. "Sometimes I believe you."

He smiled. "Maybe some day you will always." He kissed her forehead. "I better head back in." He looked down at himself as she drew back. "I'll need a minute."

She laughed loudly and he thought it might be the best thing he'd heard in ages.

XXXXX


	11. Cutting Words

_a/n-much thanks to tersaseda for being my sounding board. and much thanks to those who follow this story and like it so much. i apologize for the delay in posting. this part took some effort. many hugs-gp28_

**Cutting Words**

Ruby opened the door to Emma's bedroom without a knock and Emma jumped, while holding a shirt to her torso.

"Dammit, Ruby, can't you knock?" she breathed, trying to catch her breath.

"Oh. Date with Killian?" Ruby asked, eyebrows wiggling.

Emma rolled her eyes before slipping on the blue button down, and doing the buttons deftly. "Yes."

"Don't say it like that," Ruby said before coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Like what?"

"Like it's a problem."

"Maybe it is." Emma huffed and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Is he bad in bed?"

Emma shot her friend a look.

"What? He's clearly easy on the eyes, funny, and charming and stares at you like you're a long-lost treasure. Oh, and from my vantage point, a damn good kisser. I assumed the issue is something I haven't experienced." She smirked.

"We haven't...had sex." Emma tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling herself warm up.

"Why not?"

"It's different," Emma said, carefully. "He's not like some one night stand."

"I know." Ruby said. "And that's the problem."

Emma looked at her again. "Aren't you all smart?"

"Ems, I love you, but after freshman year, you only slept with guys we met at parties, no exchange of numbers or even interest it seemed like. I'm all for sowing oats, but it seemed strange."

Emma shrugged. "If you have an itch…" She moved over to sit next to Ruby. "And you and Victor?"

"He has very steady hands, which will serve him well in med school." Ruby laughed and hugged Emma. "Just have fun. And for god's sake, sleep with him because I want details." She bounced up off the bed and walked to the door to turn back. "Why the button down?"

"Why not?"

"Seems a bit conservative...unless you like idea of him undoing buttons," Ruby winked and left Emma with that image in her head. Emma looked down at her shirt, her mind going to places far past unbuttoning.

She shook herself and stood up, before slipping on a sweater.

When Emma opened the door, he stood there with an actual picnic basket in hand. He's wearing his black overcoat with red scarf and grey beanie.

"It's like ten degrees outside," she stated with a hand on her hip, eyeing the basket.

"Ye of little faith…" He grinned at her widely. "I have to run a quick errand then we'll go." He took a step back as she finished wrapping her scarf around her neck and shut the door behind her. "Hi."

She tilted her head to give him a 'really' look but her eyes softened as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. She returned it, but on his mouth. His hand came up to her face to keep her there, the kiss lingering.

"Love, if we start this now, we'll never eat," his voice was low, his accent rough. It gave her shivers, the images of his fingers on her skin coming back in full force. She drew back, face heating and her eyes unable to leave his lips, now pink from hers. Had she ever wanted someone so much? The idea of grabbing him and kicking Ruby out of the dorm for the next several hours was tempting.

He offered her his free hand, which she took instead. She knew that sex with Killian wouldn't be just one night, or something casual. And she wasn't ready for that, was she?

"So, where are we having this picnic?" she asked,as they exited her dorm, her eyes darting to their gloved hands together. She wasn't sure why he needed gloves; his hands were always warm.

"Surprise."

"Still don't like surprises," she answered, looking over at him as he smiled into the bright sunshine. It was exceedingly brisk, but the sun tempered the bleakness of winter nicely.

"Let's just say that I know someone who majors in botany…" he winked at her.

She didn't answer for a few seconds. "I don't get it."

He just chuckled, leaning over to kiss the wrinkle on her forehead she always got when she was trying to figure something out. He tugged her closer as they entered one of the campus buildings. Emma was mentally focusing on what botany had to do with picnic venues and avoiding the thoughts she'd been having about him earlier, and missed what building they'd come into. Not until they turned down a few halls.

"Wait...what are we doing here?" she stopped in her place, jerking him to a stop as well. She knew this hall and so did her heart as it began to pound.

"I have to pick up something from my advisor, love." He turned to face her. "Just take a moment."

"I'll wait outside." She dropped his hand and pressed hers over her heart as though she was making sure it was staying in there and not breaking through.

He cocked his head to the side. "It'll take just a sec…"

She started to back up, eyes locked on the door past him. "No worries. It's stuffy so I'll just grab more fresh air." She turned to head out, took two steps and heard a door open.

"Killian...there you are," the familiar voice entered her ears and she just froze. "I got that application and...Emma?"

She turned slowly, her escape plan now impossible. Both men were looking at her. Neal, in a pleasantly surprised way and Killian in a worried, shocked way.

"Hi Professor Cassidy." Her voice was steady and for that she was proud.

He walked up till he was next to Killian. "I didn't know you knew my best student." He grinned at Killian and slapped him on the back.

Seeing them side by side did something to her. They were friends, as much as one could be friends with a professor. She had to get out of there.

"We met at Grounds," Killian answered, smiling a little, but still darting looks to Emma. "Did she have to suffer one of your freshman history courses?"

"I think the suffering was minimal," Neal answered, smiling warmly at her. "How's criminal justice working out for you?"

Emma swallowed hard. "Perfect."

"Sure?" Neal turned to Killian. "She was quite the promising history student."

"Was she?" His voice was light, but his eyes were serious.

"Indeed."

_Emma waited until the end of class, three days before finals. The rest of the class was filing out the doors, but one stayed by him, smiling at him and laughing about something. Emma watched as his answering smile looked terribly familiar to her._

_"Professor, can I talk to you about my essay?" she asked when the other co-ed had left. Neal looked up at her, eyes heating._

_"Of course, shall we go to my office?" he asked, smiling the smile that she'd always thought was for her._

_But he was sharing it with others._

_"Here's fine."_

_His eyebrows rose, his thoughts transparent as to what he thought she was asking for._

_She shoved her paper at him. "You gave me an A."_

_"I know. I graded it." He looked at the paper then at her. "I don't usually get students pursuing me about A's." He leaned on the table. "Is this really what you want to talk about?" He reached out to touch her hand. She pulled it back._

_"Did you read it?"_

_He straightened. "Of course."_

_Lie._

_"Did you? Because I had this weird thought after I'd been getting A's on my essays all semester and you used to give me only C's and B's during the summer class. Like maybe you were giving me A's because we're sleeping together…" she dropped her voice on the last part. "But I thought that was nuts. So I wrote this. And after the first paragraph it goes into a long rant about on why the Theodore the Chipmunk is such a dumbass and annoying, Alvin's a shit and Simon is the only one worth watching. For three pages!"_

_Neal looked down at her paper, eyes scanning the words to see if she'd been truthful. "Why?"_

_"Because I didn't want to think that you were giving me A's for something other than my writing." She grabbed it back. "How long?"_

_He sighed, much like a parent to a tantrum-throwing child. "What does it matter? They're A's."_

_She let out a laugh, sharp and bitter. "It matters because I don't want handouts. I want to learn, you know? Why I'm here!"_

_"Calm down," he mollified her._

_She took a second to do that for the most part. Not because he'd asked but because she didn't want to lose it in front of him. "I just have one question. Did I deserve any of those A's?"_

_He stared at her for a long time, the warmth in his eyes nowhere to be found._

_"Not everyone is cut out for history, Emma." The patronization in his voice filled the room, cloying._

_She crumpled the paper in her hand. She didn't know what to say. The pain was overwhelming. And the shame. He didn't think she was cut out for his classes?_

_Not good enough._

_Never good enough._

_"You're a beautiful woman. You're just not-"_

_"Don't say it," she cut him off. "Don't say anything." And she ran out of the room as the tears started to threaten._

"Must have been that my essays just never satisfied my own standards." It came out sharper than she meant even if her blood was boiling. "I forgot, Killian, I have stuff to do this afternoon. I better go." And she turned on her heel and started out the door.

"Emma?" She could hear Killian call.

"Women. So changeable, you know?" Neal chimed in.

Emma balled her hands into fists and focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not turning back around and decking him. You didn't deck a professor and get off with a warning. Even if the same professor had taken you as a lover.

And you were stupid enough to get taken.

"Emma!"

She kept walking, purposefully, refusing to run, but not slowing down.

"Sweetheart, I can't exactly run with this hamper."

"No one is asking you to run, Jones," she shot back.

"Please stop."

She did, the pleading in his voice practically stopping her legs on their own. She didn't face him, but waited in the middle of the quad as he caught up with her, setting the basket down on the ground next to her as he came round to block the path she'd been taking.

"What on earth, love?" He breathed heavily due to his jog.

"I told you. I remember I can't hang out today. I'm sorry." She moved to detour around him, but his hand reached out and took hers.

"Why are you lying to me?" It was his eyes. Those pleading, blue eyes.

She couldn't deal with him, with his eyes, with his need to know her. She pulled away from him. "Who cares? I can lie to you. I can lie to anyone. It's my choice to lie and my choice not to spend the day with you." She bypassed him and continued back to her dorm. She could hear him follow her.

"Dammit, Swan, let's talk about this."

She whirled around so violently that he nearly pummeled into her. "No. I'm saying no. You don't get to know anything about me just because you wanna fuck, Jones. That is not your right. This...this stupid thing between us, not gonna happen."

The frustration in his eyes faded. "Emma...that's not...I wouldn't even...what is bothering you? Is it Neal?"

She laughed, without joy or lightness. "You call him Neal, too? That's almost funny. Goodbye, Killian." And she kept walking, away from him and his devastated blue eyes.

XXXXX

"Killian."

He was still standing there, in the cold and sunshine, his brain completely blank as he tried to apply some logic to why Emma had just stormed off like that.

He heard his name, but couldn't just yet answer.

"Killian, you forgot the application for the summer program." Neal came up to him, still holding the papers.

Killian took them, still in a mild daze before turning to his professor. "She took one of your classes?"

"She took two, actually. I was one of her welcoming committee when she arrived for summer classes before her freshman year." He tucked his hands into his pockets. "Make sure you get that application back to me soon so I can send it in with my recommendation."

Killian nodded. "Right. Thank you again for that." He turned to where she'd gone then back to Neal. "That was...I don't know. I've not seen her like that since..." Never that angry. But her eyes had burned with rage and something under that. He wasn't sure what.

"She's probably just playing with you. Some women do that, you know? Play games. Probably best to find one a bit easier." Neal patted him on the shoulder before heading back to the history building. Killian watched him go, eyebrows sinking as he turned over his professor's words in his mind.

Emma play games? That was so far off the mark that Killian would have laughed if he'd been able to. Obviously, the man didn't know Emma.

Although, Killian was wondering if he knew her as well.


	12. Revealing Words

_after much time passing (sorry about that), here's the next installment. i can't thank you enough for all the kind words about this fic. it touches my cold and cynical heart. :)-gp28_

_disclaimer: don't own them, kinda wish I did._

**Revealing Words**

He took a breath and knocked on the door, readjusting his hold on the picnic basket. He waited as the footsteps behind the door approached. The door cracked open and he forced a smile to his lips for Ruby.

"Emma's...not-"

"You don't have to lie for her," Killian said quickly and set the basket down. "I can't eat this, so I thought I'd leave it with you two. Shame for it to go to waste." He looked back up to meet her eyes. "See you, lass." He turned and headed back to the stairwell.

"Killian," Ruby whispered and exited, shutting the door behind her covertly. He paused and waited, glancing back at her. "You okay?"

"Bit confused at the moment." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I can't...I thought I understood her, but this throws me."

Ruby looked conflicted. "It's not my story to tell."

"It's hers," he replied, a slight bite to his words. "But she refuses to share much of herself." He shrugged.

"Don't give up."

He wondered if the brunette saw through him. It wasn't that he was consciously thinking about doing that, but he was beyond being discouraged. He knew that had she'd thrown herself at him easily, he wouldn't be as intrigued, but he yearned for someone who shared everything.

"That's really not your place to say, Ruby girl."

"I know." She moved closer and her eyes crinkled with concern and earnestness. "I know. And she's one of my best friends and I get it. She's...her life before here wasn't easy, you know? Stuff that I can't even comprehend that she had to deal with, really young. She likes you. More than she would ever admit to any of us. And you make her happy when she's not overthinking. So please, don't give up."

Killian sighed softly. "With such an ardent plea, how could I refuse?" He smiled ruefully at her.

She grinned back. "You're lucky I love Emma and find myself completely into your best friend, Killian Jones. Cause you wouldn't know what hit you." She winked at him and he chuckled, something he hadn't known he could do after the scene he'd just experienced out in the quad. She picked up the basket and gave him a small wave before entering their dorm room. He waited for the door to close, half-hoping Emma would come out but seconds passed and he was alone.

XXXXX

He let her alone for several days. It didn't stop him from checking his mobile several times a day, but he picked up a few more shifts at Grounds to cover for those who were going home for Thanksgiving. He and his brother celebrated the American holiday mostly for the food and watching American football, but the business stayed open part of the time because Liam's pumpkin and pecan pies tended to sell out and sell out quickly.

"Are you going to talk to me about it?" Liam asked as he rolled out some dough with a rolling pin. Killian busied himself with picking out non broken pecan halves.

"About what? I'm not doing Black Friday again with you, mate. That was the most terrified I've ever been." He tossed a few pieces in his mouth, chewing slowly to enjoy the flavor.

"Haha. You're such a comic," Liam rolled his eyes. "About Emma."

Killian hesitated in his sorting, but continued on. "Are we painting each other's toenails later as well?"

"Sod off, you look like shit and you've only been working or studying for days." Liam slammed the rolling pin on the counter, making his brother jump at the abrupt sound. "What happened?"

Killian knew that his brother's worry had more to do with what had happened with Milah and that aftermath. Which was why he didn't meet the other's gaze. He didn't want to show exactly how far gone he really was.

Killian shrugged. "I have no clue. One moment she's there, in that way that makes absolute complete sense to me, then the next she's pushing me away and I know I didn't do anything this time. She just saw-" He stopped. "She just saw Neal." His eyebrows lowered in thought.

"Your advisor?"

Killian nodded. "It spooked her."

Liam watched his brother, his mind turning as well. "Did she have him for a professor?"

Killian nodded. "Two classes. But everyone loves Cassidy. He's the only one without a stick up his arse." He rolled a pecan in his fingers. "Most girls fancy him."

It was like an anvil.

Both brothers looked at each other at the same time.

"Fuck." Killian breathed, reaching to undo his apron. "Can you survive without me?"

Liam nodded. "I'm good. Go talk to her."

Killian sped out of the kitchen.

XXXXX

"Coming," Emma growled. It was late the night before Thanksgiving and if she was going to survive the next day with all her friends, she needed some time alone. Ruby was with Victor and she had the whole dorm room to herself and planned on staying in pajamas until the last possible second tomorrow. She swung open the door to tell Ruby that she really didn't want anyone near her.

But it wasn't Ruby.

"Killian." Jeez, she hadn't let her mouth say that name for days. It tasted bittersweet. "What are you doing here?" And looking out of breath, flushed in face and half covered with flour (had he been baking?).

Her heart squeezed in her chest.

"We need to talk," he said and slipped by her without so much as an invitation.

"Come in, then." Her voice indicated that she thought just the opposite. "I was kind of enjoying the alone time." She shut the door behind her.

Maybe this was the moment. She'd talked to Mary Margaret about ending things in a slightly better manner than insulting him. Mary Margaret hadn't been exactly encouraging about breaking up with Killian (were they even together?), but she had supported the chance that the two talk when it was a little less emotional.

"I figured I'd given you enough alone time for days now." He looked around the living room before zeroing in on her. "It's Cassidy, right?"

Emma stiffened at the name. "What are you talking about?"

"Something happened with him. And that's what spooked you last Saturday. And I'm a fucking idiot for not figuring it out sooner, but I was too bloody hurt. And lost." He crossed his arms over his chest. "What the hell does he have to do with you and me?"

"You don't care?" she shot back, angry and somewhat impressed he'd figured it out (she didn't leave a lot of clues). "That I slept with your bestest advisor and friend?"

Killian closed his eyes and took a breath. "He's not…" Well, there it was. The truth. "That's the past, right? I've slept with women that were not you. Do you hold that against me?"

Emma's ire lowered slightly. "No."

"So, explain it to me, Emma. Because despite the shoving away that you do, really well by the way, I'm not put off. Not when I think you want me as much as I want you." He paused. "Talk to me."

She stood there, fuming at the arrogance of him. Demanding that she speak to him. How dare he even think-?

"You're gonna tell me off for not asking nicely, aren't you?" he said, with a dark smirk. "Too bad. I'm in too deep for niceties, Emma Swan. I care about you too much to be polite."

She scoffed. "You don't even know me."

"Not entirely my fault, love. What happened with Cassidy that makes you not want to be with me?" He moved to the couch and plopped himself down (flour and all).

"Get out."

"Nope." He grinned, but it was angry. "Not until you tell me. Call campus police if you want."

She would. This was not the calm talk she'd envisioned. She'd was simply going to tell him that her life was too much to have him in it. That she wasn't as interested as she'd first thought. That she didn't want a guy in her life. Something. But here he was, sticking his nose into her business...again. The idea of punching him repeatedly was really rewarding. She glared at him. "Why do you care?" Dammit, her voice broke at the end of it.

He stood back up, stalked toward her until she was back up against the door. "Why do I care?" he whispered, almost hissing. He braced his arms on either side of her, not touching her, but fully in her personal space. "I'm falling so fucking fast for you that it terrifies me. When I'm with you, I'm happy. Incandescently happy even when we're fighting. When I make you smile, my heart grows like the Grinch's. When you kiss me, I forget every loss I've ever gone through. Why do I care? Because I do."

She stared at him, her entire body thrumming with his nearness and his words. How could his words frighten and thrill her at the same time? He wasn't lying. God, he rarely lied to her and wasn't that what she needed? What she wanted?

"Not really that poetic," she said softly, trying to break the tension.

He relaxed his stance just a bit. "Wasn't really trying." He dropped one of his arms to bring his hand up to her face. She didn't flinch as he touched her. "Please talk to me."

"I loved him." She said softly. "As stupid as you might think I am for it, trust me, I was thinking I was stupid too."

He shook his head. "Not even a little." He brushed his thumb over her lips. "What happened?"

"Not like you'd think." She smiled sadly. "It was never officially a relationship because you know, professor and student. But I realized that I was only getting A's on my essays in his class. And So I wrote a bullshit one. About Alvin and the Chipmunks and he gave it an A. So I confronted about it. And it just boiled down to that he didn't think that I'd care that I hadn't earned the grade. I sleep with him and he gives me A's." She closed her eyes and he caught a tear before it fell from her lashes. "He couldn't understand why that bothered me. That him thinking I was smart could be just as important as him wanting me." She opened her eyes to see Killian's blue. "So there you go. I made a stupid mistake and haven't really gotten over it."

"What was your mistake, love?" His hand moved to the back of her head, rubbing her scalp lazily. "That you fell for someone you were involved with? That you thought he'd see how absolutely brilliant you are? Not your mistake. His." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering as though he couldn't pull away. "I'm sorry."

"How are you not bothered by this?" she asked helplessly, unable not to reach out and touch his chest. "He's your advisor."

"Who sleeps with his students. I knew that." He shrugged. "Didn't really bother me until now. But love," He moved closer, his lips nearly touching hers. "I'm not him."

She sighed. "I know you're not. It's just…"

"Not easy," he supplied. "To move on after a broken heart."

"When did it happen for you?" she asked tentatively as his other hand moved to her shoulder, caressing her bare skin.

"Love…" He moved to kiss her, but she turned her face and pushed him away gently.

"You don't get me to open up without doing it yourself, Killian." She walked away, to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

He sighed and rested his forehead on the door where she'd just been. "She was older. Gorgeous and smart as fuck." He saw Emma out of the corner of his eye, watching him. "I had an internship the summer after freshman year. I'd taken a gap year before going to school and I think that got me the internship because I was twenty. It was a broadcast position, entry-level and she was a news anchor." He straightened up and ran a hand through his hair before turning toward her. "It was just sex in the beginning, but even after I started back to school, we still saw each other. I thought…" he shrugged. "I thought it was more than it was." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I was wrong."

The kettle began to whistle and Emma hurried to turn it off. Killian walked around to enter the kitchen, watching silently as she poured two cups of tea.

"You won't tell anyone?" she asked. "He could get fired."

He shook his head. "Consenting adults. I wouldn't betray your trust like that."

She watched the tea steep. "Mary Margaret, David and Ruby know some of it." She took a deep breath. "So now what?"

"My feelings haven't changed."

She looked over at him, eyes wide and fearful. "I-"

"You tell me what you want. You want me to go? For good? I will go because I don't want to scare you or hurt you. But you'll have to tell me. Because I'm a stubborn ass about people I care about." And there again, his heart was out, offered to another and his brain railed at how stupid he was to try it again, but he couldn't help it.

Not with her. The beautiful, stubborn, strong women with green eyes that seared his soul.

She smiled a little and wiped her eyes. "You are infuriating."

Encouraged, he took a few steps closer and slid in next to her. "I'll take that."

Her smile grew as she gazed up at him. "And weird. It's like you enjoy being insulted."

He grinned. "Maybe I do."

"So you're a dumbass."

"Definitely a turn on." He raised his eyebrows mischievously. "Keep going."

"Cheesy with all that poetry."

"You like it."

"Arrogant ass."

"But a good ass."

"Ugly as sin."

"Fuck, that's a lie. I know I'm striking."

"I'm gonna strike you."

"I'm gonna kiss you," he answered her, swooping in and pressing his mouth to hers. She sighed against his lips, unaware that she'd missed his touch so much. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him as she opened her mouth. His tongue slipped in to play with hers and he groaned when she tugged on his hair. "It's absolutely pathetic how much I missed you these last few days."

"Then we're both pretty pathetic," she breathed back, capturing his face in her hands to bring his lips back to hers. He lifted her, so her legs hitched up to his waist and he rested her against the fridge. He dragged his lips down her neck and to her delightfully bare collarbone. "My bedroom is in the back."

He lifted his head as his body froze. "Are you sure, love? I didn't come over with those intentions."

"So you don't want to?" she asked, smiling and tightening her legs around him.

He growled. "Some compassion, darling. I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"And I've wanted you since that first poetry reading." She felt his breath catch at her words, his eyes looking so deeply into hers that she knew he was really looking into her soul. Cheesy as that thought was, it was true. Whether she wanted him to or not. "So I'm sure."

"Thank god," he muttered before kissing her again, taking all her weight and carrying her to the hallway. He tried the first door.

"Ruby's room."

"Oh shit. I do not want to see where Vic-" He was cut off by her nipping along his jaw. "Emma," he whined.

"At the end of the hall, Jones," she smiled into his neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. He stumbled a few times, not falling, but cursing her very talented mouth before getting them through her door. He lowered her gently onto the mattress before reaching to the back of his neck and pulling off his shirt. She reached out to draw her fingers along the planes of his chest, but he caught her hands. She pouted.

"Fair is fair, love. Your shirt next."

"But…"

He leaned down to kiss her, moving them both back on the bed. She let her hands run along his bare skin, enjoying the feel of him. He lifted the hem of her tank top and kissed her stomach, continuing to kiss in the same direction as he pulled up the shirt.

"Killian?"

He looked up, resting his chin on her stomach. "Yes, love?"

"Thanks for showing up tonight."

His teasing grin softened into tenderness and he raised himself up, so he hovered over her. She looked like a goddess to him.

"Any time." And he sealed his promise with a kiss.


End file.
